


Cream and Sugar

by corvidkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Drugs, Gangs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidkohai/pseuds/corvidkohai
Summary: Cloud Strife works at Cloud Nine coffee shop below the plate in Midgar. The trouble is, it's a front for the gang AVALANCHE's drug business, dealing mako for recreational use. Things were going fine up until Shinra caught word of their supposed activities at that location and send Sephiroth to investigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [奶油糖霜](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786955) by [Fayland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayland/pseuds/Fayland)

> This work is being translated into Thai! It’s posted here: https://writer.dek-d.com/Feres/writer/view.php?id=2085384

Cloud was not a man whose loyalty was bought easily.

He was dedicated to shockingly few people: only his mother. She was the only one who had ever had his back, so he had hers, indefinitely. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for her. Conversely, there as little he would have done for people that scorned him, and that included the vast majority of Nibelheim. If the village was burning to the ground, he’d run in to save his mother, but wouldn’t bother with anyone else. Maybe, if he happened across her, he’d help Tifa Lockhart, but he wouldn’t run back in for her if he was already safe. She had a few kind words for him now and then, but she didn’t truly care, so he didn’t either.

It was difficult to make him give a damn. He didn’t treat people poorly as a rule: he was polite, and wasn’t the type to stand by and let someone innocent be hurt for no reason, but that was the extent of it. The issue was, primarily after his move to Midgar, he was too busy trying to look after his own self to have time for anyone else’s issues.

He’d come to Midgar with stars in his eyes and dreams of being a SOLDIER. The issue was, when he went to the recruitment office, he was told he wasn’t eligible. The recruiter had been baffled when he told him that people from Nibelheim weren’t valid candidates for SOLDIER; apparently there was some clause that said there was a contaminant in the area that reacted violently with the SOLDIER enhancement process, blocking them from entering. The man had been utterly bewildered when he passed this information along—apparently, he hadn’t known, and only found out when a pop up crossed his screen when he entered Cloud’s information for registration.

He apologized for the inconvenience and offered him a place in the infantry instead. Pay wasn’t as great, and it wasn’t as glamorous, but it was one of the better ways to scrape by in the city. Food and lodging were paid for by the company, his uniforms would be given to him so he didn’t have to worry about clothing. Shinra would take care of him if he agreed. How about it?

Cloud refused outright. He spent all his time right before leaving bragging that he would come home a SOLDIER. It was unacceptable to return home a trooper. He’d have to find some other way to make it big, something that was as impressive as SOLDIER, as his first option was denied to him.

He thanked the recruiter but left quickly.

He went to look for lodgings but found that even “inns” were obscenely overpriced above plate. One of the innkeepers looked hesitant and resigned, but told him that, with his budget, his only option was below plate. Cloud didn’t like it, but he went there.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that even the places _below_ plate would be out of his budget. He couldn’t find a place to stay. He barely had any gil on him after the trip here. He certainly didn’t have enough to get back plateside and exit the city to camp in the wilderness, where at least he knew how to take care of himself. No, now he was trapped in the slums, with no way out and nowhere to go.

He ended up finding a large, discarded pipe, easily taller than he was, to sleep inside.

The next day, he wandered around trying to find work, but no one would hire him. He tried, and tried, and tried, but without any semblance of success. There just weren’t many jobs in the slums, and his out-of-town accent and obvious youth didn’t work in his favor. No one was willing to give him a chance.

He had no skills of use in the city. He knew how to hunt and gather, the uses and values of various medicinal herbs, how to skin and tan an animal, but there was no nature in the slums to make any of these talents applicable. He didn’t want to beg outright; his pride wouldn’t stand for it.

The only thing he could think of to use to make money was the cup game he used to play with his mother. There were three cups and one small object. The object went under one cup, then the cups were shuffled rapidly to try and trick the eye, and the other player had to guess what cup the item was under. He charged one gil to play, with the promise of two to the player if they won. It involved a great deal of sleight of hand, something his mother had taught him was the correct way to play the game as the shuffler. They had little to do on the long, Nibel winter nights, and this was one of the few ways to entertain themselves. He’d never thought it’d be how he earned his bread.

He got enough to scrape by. Apparently it wasn’t a game played in the city, so people were intrigued with the newness. It helped when people got frustrated with losing and kept playing until Cloud let them win. He knew a single gil didn’t go far, but they added up quick, and the low cost got people to play over and over again, finding the price negligible.

He had no plans. All his dreams of making it big had been flushed down the drain with the fateful decision to go below the plate. He was barely making enough to eat, he had no home—there was no way for him to get above plate. He put all his fantasies on hold, telling himself this was just temporary, that he’d find a way out soon enough.

It tasted like a lie on his tongue. He was rail thin from not eating enough. The bags under his eyes were horrendous. His hands shook more often than not, and he wasn’t even sure why that was anymore, but it made playing his cup game well difficult. He was filthy, all the time; occasionally, one of the restaurants let him use their bathroom sink to clean up as best he could, but that never did much. He was _always_ thirsty. He never had quite enough of anything, and it was wearing on him. But there was nothing to be done about it. Occasionally, the rare kind stranger tried to give him extra gil, and it took everything he had in him to be smart and not reject it. Every aspect of him bristled at the thought of charity, but the sad fact was, he _needed_ it.

Cloud couldn’t honestly say how long he’d been in the slums. There was no sun to tell time by, and he had no clock. There was no rhythm to the slums, no discernable night, as people were always bustling around without a sun to tell them when to sleep. Cloud slept when he was tired and woke when he woke. He had no concept of time anymore. Sometimes, in abject shame and misery, he wept, hidden deep in the back of his pipe-home, for what he had become.

It all changed on a dime. He’d been playing his cup game, giving the player his best smile. He turned on the charm as best he was able when he played, to engage his audience. He talked rapidly to distract them, make it harder to follow the cups. At first glance, he seemed almost merry. It was how things went every day, and it exhausted him to perform that way, but it was nothing new. He certainly hadn’t been expecting anything to change that day—nothing ever changed for him anymore, after all.

Except, his babbling about nothing as he slid the cups about was interrupted with a sharp, “Cloud Strife?”

Cloud’s hands went still. He looked up, brow furrowed. No one knew him here. Even the locals in this Sector only knew him as Cloud; he’d never told anyone his last name. Something cold passed over him. It couldn’t be anyone from Nibelheim. They couldn’t be here. They couldn’t _see_ him like this, what he’d come to.

Except when he looked around, his eyes fell on Tifa Lockhart, who was looking at him in shock.

The blood drained from his face.

He tossed the gil back in his player’s face and said, “Show’s over, folks! Try again later.”

He didn’t even bother packing his things away—they were just cups he found discarded and a lone die he’d found in an alley spread on top of a piece of cardboard. He could collect new things. The important thing was getting the _fuck_ out of there before Tifa caught him.

He made a break for it, bolting to the side. He knew the slums like the back of his hand now, all the ins and outs and little back passages. He could lose her. He had a head start.

What he didn’t account for, was the fact that he was malnourished and sleep deprived, and Tifa had been training most of her life with Zangan. She was in far better physical shape than he was, and she tackled him to the ground easily.

He tried to scrabble away, but she flipped him onto his back easily, straddling his hips to hold him still and pinning his wrists above his head. As much as he tried, he couldn’t break away. Eventually, he slumped down in her grip, exhausted and panting from just that much. He looked to the side, refusing to make eye contact.

“It is you, Cloud,” Tifa said, awe in her tone. “What _happened_ to you?”

“Good to see you too, Tifa,” he said, with enough bitterness and hardness in his tone and expression to make it clear he didn’t even remotely mean it.

“You said you were going to join SOLDIER. Why are you below the plate? Why do you look like shit? Why were you playing that stupid cup game of yours for gil?”

It stung his tongue to say, but he admitted, “They don’t let people from Nibelheim into SOLDIER. I couldn’t get a real answer why.”

“And that led you to playing cups?”

Cloud pinched his eyes shut, feeling sick with shame.

“I tried to find a place above plate, but I didn’t have enough gil. I came below plate, and I still didn’t have enough gil. No one will hire me and I can’t afford the ticket back up to get out of the city. Do you feel better now, knowing how bad I fucked up?”

Tifa sat back on her heels, letting his wrists go. Cloud peeked up at her, and wished he hadn’t. That was _pity_ on her face.

“Cloud, I’m so sorry. That’s not how it was supposed to go.”

“But that’s how it went, and I don’t want your sympathy. Get off me and go wherever you were going.”

“… When’s the last time you ate?”

“This morning.”

“Like, an actual meal, Cloud, not scraps.”

Cloud looked away, but didn’t answer.

Tifa sighed and said, “You’re coming with me. We’re gonna get you fed.”

“I don’t want your _charity_, Tifa. I get by on my own.”

“I know we were both taught that charity is a dirty word. But we were also taught to take care of our own. I can’t leave you here like this.”

Cloud barked a sharp, loud laugh.

“You’ve never counted me as one of your own before, why start now? Just because we’re both from the same shitty village? Fuck off, Tifa.”

“Cloud, you’re my _friend_,” Tifa said, sincere, almost wounded. “You always have been. I know I was a shitty kid, and I’ve been regretting it since I got old enough to see how spoiled I was. Let me start making it up to you.”

“We’re not _friends_. You never wanted to be my friend. You had your own friends—it was them you turned to after the accident, and me you let your father beat half to death for trying to help you. We both know I _helped_ you, Tifa, no matter what your father thought, and you never said a godsdamn _word_.”

He could feel her wince. He still refused to look at her.

“I wouldn’t have made that promise with you if I didn’t consider you a friend. Like I said, I was a shitty one, but I can’t fix the past. All I can do is do right by you now. And that starts with getting you fed.”

She climbed off him and held her hand out to help him up. He looked at the hand, looked up at her, and hesitated.

It sounded nice. That she wanted to make amends, that she would help, that she would do better. But he knew from experience, that the only person who actually cared about him was his mother. If they weren’t bound by blood, he couldn’t expect anything from anyone.

He slapped her hand away and got to his feet on his own.

He started stalking away from her, but she grabbed his wrist.

“Cloud, stop being _stubborn_. Let me _help_.”

“You probably only want to help to make yourself feel better. I don’t accept charity, Tifa, and I sure don’t want your pity. Get lost.”

“That’s it,” she said, before grabbing him around the waist and tossing him over her shoulder.

He fought, and struggled, and squirmed. He hollered and carried on, but no one cared. He was light enough from malnourishment, and her strong enough from her own training that she carried him easily despite his protests. He had hoped that someone would intervene on his behalf with the way he clearly didn’t consent to this, but it had always been a vain hope; this was the slums, and people minded their own business, here. It was what you did if you didn’t want to be the next victim.

She carried him up the stairs into what was clearly some sort of bar before tossing him down into a chair. She pointed in his face.

“Stay put. I _will_ tie you to that chair if I have to,” she threatened, before turning her face to the side without taking her eyes off him, yelling, “Barret!”

There was a rumbling sound, and a pinball machine suddenly ascended through a gap in the floor, carrying with it a large man.

“What is—Tifa, you can’t bring home strays.”

“He’s an old friend, Barret.”

“Then why’s he looking at you like he wants to hit you?”

“He’s being a stubborn ass, like he always is. Watch him for me, will you? I need to get him something to eat.”

Barret shrugged, but came over and plopped himself down on the table in front of Cloud, who glowered at him. Barret looked unimpressed, crossing his arms over his formidable chest. Tifa rolled her eyes and went to the back of the bar.

“So. How’d’you know Tifa?” Barret started.

“Piss off.”

Barret scowled at him, saying, “You always this rude?”

“I don’t want to _be here_. She knows that. If she wasn’t still such a godsdamn _brat_, she’d let me go.”

“She’s not being a brat. You seen yourself lately? You’re skin and bones. Seems to me, she’s doing you a favor, getting you something to eat.”

“I don’t want her charity. I told her as much, same time I told her to fuck off.”

“It’s not charity. It’s called being decent. You oughta try it sometime.”

“Fuck you too.”

Cloud moved to get up, and got halfway out of his chair, before Barret shoved him back in it, hard enough the chair almost tipped over.

“You’re staying put.”

“What do you care? You don’t even know me.”

“My friend asked me to keep you here, so I’m gonna. That aside, your _piss poor attitude_ aside, you really look like shit. I can’t let you just leave without losing sleep over it.”

“I don’t give a damn about your sleep. Let me _leave_.”

“Fuck no. You got such a problem with charity? Earn your keep.”

“… What?”

“You heard me. We’re gonna feed you, one way or another. Wash dishes or something to make up for it.”

Cloud paused, frowning. He had a point. It really did look like they weren’t going to just let him go. At least if he helped out, he could soothe the sting to what was left of his pride.

“Fine.”

They sat in silence after that, until Tifa came back out with a huge plate of food. It was traditional Nibel fare, and it made Cloud’s heart ache as much as his stomach rumble. She looked between them, suspicious at the silence, but set the food in front of Cloud.

Cloud dug in, but went about it slowly. He was a Nibel boy, and he’d had enough hard winters to know that if you ate too quick after being hungry for too long, you just made yourself sick. He ate slowly, in measured bites, but cleaned his plate. Tifa sat across from him, watching him the whole while, while Barret watched her. Everyone was scowling except Cloud, who was too focused on his food to care.

Eventually the plate was clean and Cloud stood, the dish in hand.

“Where’s your kitchen? I’m doing the dishes.”

Tifa gave him an appraising look. Part of her wanted to tell him no, since he was clearly dead on his feet, and had been for a while. But she stood and showed him where it was, knowing his Nibel pride wouldn’t tolerate freebies. She stood, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she watched him clean in silence, contemplating.

“Where are you staying?” she asked.

“None of your business.”

“You’re not on the street, are you?”

“Not… really.”

He was in a pipe, not on the street, thank you.

“Stay here. We can put you to work.”

He paused, hands deep in soapy water, to look over his shoulder at her. He turned off the tap and dried his hands before turning to face her.

“Why?”

“Because we take care of our own. I’m not leaving you on the street, to starve and struggle. This way, it isn’t charity. Consider it a job with lodgings. That’s what Shinra would have given you, isn’t it? You can accept that from _Shinra_, but not from me?”

Cloud watched her closely for a long, long time, before he nodded slowly.

“Alright. What would I be doing?”

Tifa winced, and then sighed, sweeping her hair out of her face.

“It’s a, uh, long story. I can tell you in the morning.”

“You’ll tell me now, if you don’t want me to just walk out of here.”

Tifa frowned, but knew he was good for his word. She could always toss him back over her shoulder, but nothing could stop him from leaving in the middle of the night.

“I’m a part of AVALANCHE. You heard of them?”

Cloud’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. Yeah, yeah he had. Everyone below the plate had.

AVALANCHE was a strange, strange group. A gang of sorts, but with morals. They were up to a lot of the same things as Don Corneo, but used their profits for good ends. They had a couple of brothels that competed with the Honey Bee Inn. They had a string of businesses, mostly bars. But it was what those businesses were a cover for that brought in most of their gil.

They sold underground mako.

They never made the mako themselves, didn’t pay Shinra for it; they had too much of an environmentalist leaning for that. No, they stole the mako from Shinra off their transports, and then sold it as a drug. Mako was tricky. It had to be injected, always, and the dosing was hard to gauge. Too much made you sick, inevitably. Too little didn’t do anything at all. No one quite figured out the dosing SOLDIERs used, but most guessed it was at a high enough dosage that it fell into the make-you-puke-your-guts-out range. No one dosed that high for recreation.

But, in low doses, mako was apparently amazing. It gave you a high like nothing else, made you so euphoric that regular happiness would only ever be half a step away from numb ever again. One dose and you were ruined, never able to fully enjoy anything unless you were high ever again. Not to mention it was incredibly addicting. You didn’t ever “experiment” with mako, no matter what anyone said. You tried it once and you were hooked for life. Often, people took increasingly higher doses, seeking a bigger high, only to make themselves sick and often overdose, leaving them mako poisoned, and unable to move or even blink. As much as Cloud himself had been tempted, just for some sort of release, he’d never dared, not with the consequences for trying. It wasn’t worth it.

Cloud wasn’t necessarily sure he wanted to be a part of that kind of business. Sure, AVALANCHE used the proceeds to help work toward bringing down Shinra and ending mako production altogether, for the good of the planet. That was a cause he could theoretically endorse. But he didn’t like the idea of helping people make their own deathbed.

But as he paused to think it over, he found he couldn’t fully bring himself to care. If people wanted to get their hands on mako, they would, whether or not he helped. He was helping AVALANCHE, sure, but they’d succeed without him either way. It didn’t really make a difference, except in his own welfare. And, as far as he was concerned, he had only two people to look after in life: his mother and himself. And this was definitely in his own best interest.

“Fine,” Cloud said eventually. “What do you want me to do?”

“_Awesome_,” Tifa said, a look of relief on her face. “We’re opening up a coffee shop. You’d be the barista, the face of the store. I doubt we’d actually get that much real business, but you wouldn’t be running the whole store by yourself. There would be deals there. You’d probably be the front, people would come to you with some sort of code word or secret gesture to let you know they wanted mako. Then you’d pass them off to someone in the back. You won’t have to do any dealing yourself, not unless you want to. Unless you say otherwise, you’ll just be a barista.”

Cloud paused, but sighed, ruffling his hair, and nodded.

“Alright. I’m in. When do I start?”

“We’re opening in about a month. Until then, you can work Seventh Heaven with me. That sound ok?”

“Works for me. Where would I be staying?”

“There’re rooms above the shops, that’s where I stay. You need to go get anything from where you were staying before?”

Cloud laughed harshly and gestured to himself.

“Do I look like I had anything important?”

Tifa sighed, but said, “I guess not.”

“First things first,” Cloud said. “Do you guys have a shower? I’d _kill_ for one.”

Tifa gave him a look that was sad, almost pitying, but it didn’t even get under his skin this time, because she told him where to find it, along with some old clothes of Barret’s and spare towels. He almost skipped away to go find them.

For the first time in a long time, things were looking up.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t quite as bad as Cloud was expecting.

He thought there’d be a lot of misguided mothering from Tifa. She never did know when to leave well enough alone, and she could be as stubborn as he was in the right circumstances. He thought she’d nag, and hover, and try to micromanage. She didn’t do that at all.

He didn’t tell her what life had been like in Midgar since he got here, and she didn’t ask. She didn’t ask, but she’d been in the city long enough to make a few educated guesses. As much as Cloud was never alone, never given full privacy on the street, he was also fully unaccustomed to attention, now. If he wasn’t hawking his game, he had been entirely overlooked. If you were homeless, no one wanted to acknowledge your existence, and that had held true for Cloud. He got uncomfortable if people looked at him too long. If he wasn’t providing some sort of service, he didn’t know how to handle being the center of attention.

So Tifa danced around him. She let him come and go as he pleased, but always with the threat that if he ran off she’d track him down and drag him back. She didn’t look at him too long, and told Barret in private to do the same. They gave him a job as busboy/dishwasher to keep him out of the limelight, but gradually, during that month, worked him up to behind the bar, to get him ready for when he would have his own patrons. He handled the transition well enough, as they went about it slowly, and carefully enough that he didn’t even realize what they were doing.

It took him some time, but he got back to looking more or less healthy. There were no more bags under his eyes, his hands didn’t shake, and you could see his bones poking out a little less. He got to shower daily now, which Tifa was pretty sure he mostly did because it had been denied him for so long.

So long, which was apparently almost five years. Tifa didn’t tell him as much, but she caught him staring at a newspaper one day, gawking at the date. She didn’t realize quite how out of touch with time he had been, but when he left all but running to his room, she let him have his space.

He was still snippy with people who weren’t customers. If you bought something, he was perfectly polite, and smiled just right. When it came to Jesse, Biggs, Wedge, Barret, or Tifa, he was usually a down and out asshole. It was the worst at the very beginning, when he could barely say something that wasn’t rude to any of them. He agreed to be here, agreed to help and to work for them, but it still stung his pride, the way they looked at him. Jesse had been particularly bad, with her soft eyes when she first saw him. She kept trying to coddle him, and he was vicious with her in return. Luckily, she had thick skin, and wasn’t bothered by what was essentially the feral cat her friends had decided to adopt.

But things did settle, by the end of that first month. He was still rude, but usually he said it with enough softness in his expression that they knew he was either kidding or saving face most of the time. He was still loathe to accept kindness, but at this point, he stopped ripping people’s heads off for offering. He just gave them a withering look and slapped their outstretched hands away, and considering where they started, it was marked improvement.

Still, the month ended, and the coffee shop was opening. Cloud had reluctantly attended all the progress meetings, but there was one sticking point that they just couldn’t agree on. It wasn’t paint color, or furniture, or espresso machines.

It was the name.

They sat around tossing out options, but they were all bad. Cloud just sat slumped in his seat, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, bored. He was here to help, but this wasn’t the sort of thing that warranted his contribution.

He was half asleep out of sheer boredom by the time Wedge slanted a look at him and said, “What about ‘Cloud Nine?’”

Cloud’s eyes opened fully at the sound of his name, only to have the words register a beat later. When they did, everyone was looking at him, and he scowled.

“Hell no,” he said.

“Why not? It’s kinda like Seventh Heaven, same sort of ring to it. And you’re gonna be the face of the business, right? It makes sense.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Cloud shot back.

But Tifa had that grin on her face, the teasing sort that said the more Cloud protested, the more set she would be on it.

He looked away with a huff, slumping further in his chair.

“It’s kinda cute,” she said, making Cloud glare at her.

“It’s not _cute_, it’s _tacky_.”

“It is kinda cute,” Jesse added.

“_Really_ cute,” Wedge agreed.

Biggs just snickered.

Cloud scowled harder.

“You’re a bunch of pricks, you know that? Don’t name the damn business after me. This wasn’t even my idea in the first place.”

“We gotta make it look legit, Cloud,” Wedge said. “If we name it after you, and it looks like you own it, it’s gonna look less like the business is tied to us and more like it’s just you on your own.”

“I don’t believe for a second that that’s your reason.”

“But it makes sense,” Biggs offered.

Cloud flipped him off.

“Cloud Nine it is, then,” Barret declared, amusement bright in his eyes.

Cloud slumped the rest of the way down in his chair with a groan and tossed an arm over his eyes.

And so, Cloud Nine was on its way to opening. They got all their supplies. Cloud, frankly, busted his ass learning how to run a café. He didn’t know shit about drinks—Nibelheim had regular drip coffee and that was it. He hadn’t even _heard_ of espresso before, much less the dozens of drinks that could be made with it. He spent hours and hours on the PHS AVALANCHE had bought him (ostensibly so they could reach him if they needed to) learning about macchiatos and cappuccinos and cortados. The names of everything sounded strange in his mouth, he was so used to the Nibel ring of things.

But he did his homework, and he did it well. If Cloud Nine was going to be his business, he was going to do it right. His mother had always beat a hard work ethic into his head. He didn’t do things in halves. If this was going to be his project, it was going to be the best there was. He had every intention of making the café good enough that people came there for the coffee, too, not just the drugs. Not only because he wouldn’t accept anything less than excellence, but also because it would make a better cover if it was also a functioning business.

By the turn of the month, Cloud Nine was opening its doors. They had spread flyers and hype all month beforehand, which helped with the turnout they got on their opening. It was helped even further by the way they gave away every single drink free that day. The customers were happy because, hey, free drink. Cloud was content because it was drawing a crowd, and he got a chance to practice with the espresso machine without wasting anything. And he needed the practice, because he’d never used one of the machines before. He’d seen plenty of videos, read plenty of articles; he had a theoretical understanding of how this went. But there was a certain amount of dexterity involved, and he needed practice to be good at it.

The other people they had hired to run the shop, all with an awareness of the actual business they would be doing, had no more experience with coffee making than he did, so he couldn’t even relegate the task to them and focus on running the business. They were an unfortunately rag tag group of people.

Yuffie Kisaragi was their youngest. Cloud would have had an inkling that she was Wutaian by her name, but she tended to grumble in the language when frustrated, and that was a dead giveaway. He didn’t know how she ended up all the way over in Midgar, and he didn’t ask—it wasn’t his business. He didn’t even have to ask why she wanted to find some way to fight back against Shinra. She was peppy, though, and she helped sell. She was going to be a huge help with dealing with customers, as long as she kept her temper in check.

Cid Highwind made both more and less sense. He’d volunteered to explain the sordid business with the rocket to Cloud. He said he came back to Midgar in hopes of wheedling a bit more money out of Shinra to restart the program. It hadn’t worked. He’d been trying to figure out his next step when he overheard talk of AVALANCHE and decided that if he couldn’t work with Shinra, he’d work against them. He didn’t know anything about coffee, but knew everything about their tea menu. He was grumpy and Cloud could already see how he’d be a nightmare for customer service, but he liked Cid. Especially because he was blunt and honest and didn’t give him a pitying look when he heard about how Cloud himself ended up at the store. Cloud quietly decided he would be making the drinks and not serving them.

Vincent was—well, he was Vincent. No last name, no history given. He had apparently been working with AVALANCHE a long time now. He was the one who took them from an eco-terrorist to a crime organization. He’d shown up out of the blue, saying he’d heard about their cause and wanted to help, that he knew how to go about things in a different way that would pay off well. No one knew what he had been doing beforehand, or how he understood how to set up a crime family. But they were all grateful that he turned up, and let him have his secrets. He was working with Cloud as their man for the back of the shop. He was going to be with them an indeterminate amount of time to get things set up and running smoothly, but until then, he would handle all of the underground business.

Yuffie and Cid kept bumping into each other, making them snipe at one another. Cloud himself was still struggling with the wand to froth milk. Cid kept mixing up cappuccinos and lattes. Yuffie was overenthusiastic with flavoring syrups and sent out some drinks that were sent back despite being free that first day. Vincent stood quietly in the corner, watching the chaos, with only one exception. At the very end of the day, when Yuffie and Cid were in the back trying to find more sugar packets and Cloud was struggling to finish the last few drinks, he’d desperately asked Vincent if he could make one, with the promise that him asking wouldn’t become a regular thing. Vincent hadn’t said a word, but pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on and rolled up his sleeves. He made a perfect cappuccino and even drew a flower in the foam at the top with a smooth flick of his wrist.

Cloud had gaped at him for a long time, right up until Yuffie and Cid came bursting out from the back.

He went to go wrangle them, now that the customers were gone, but said to Vincent as he passed, “When we get the hang of the rest of this, you’re teaching me how to do that.”

And they did get the hang of it. The beginning was a little rocky, with people coming in more for the low prices and location of the shop than the quality. But they got better as they went. A few months in, and people were coming from other sectors to visit their shop. Vincent _did_ teach Cloud how to make art with the steamed milk and foam, and they took off further after that.

They all shuffled around jobs depending on people’s days off, but for the most part, they settled into their roles. Yuffie ran the register, Cid made drinks and was dragged over when patrons had questions about tea, and Cloud bounced between the two as needed. Vincent was often busy in the back, but he could be dragged into helping when the need was there. As time went on, he even began stepping in without being asked, just quietly nudging Cloud aside to begin working.

Vincent was essential to the business for more than one reason. They absolutely needed him for the actual dealing, as none of them had any experience in that department and would have made a possibly grievous error. They certainly appreciated his help in the front. But he had a knowledge of how to run a business that Cloud, for all that he was allegedly in charge of the store, was lacking. Vincent taught him how to manage stock, to make the schedules, to manage their books (legal and otherwise) to keep track of their money. There was no way Cloud would have succeeded without Vincent quietly showing him the way.

For all that Vincent conducted his own business on the premises, Cloud knew very little about it. He didn’t think Vincent was actively trying to shield him from it, but he certainly wasn’t involved—not that he minded. All he knew was that when someone came in and asked for the Number Seven Special as a part of their order, he was supposed to flag down Vincent. Sometimes, for repeat customers, all it took was Cloud making eye contact with Vincent, who would disappear to the back. Cloud would ask the customer to step to the side, to wait for their drink and the brown paper bag that Vincent would bring out from the back.

Occasionally, Vincent took customers to the back, and Cloud wasn’t sure what happened there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, so he didn’t ask.

But this was in the early months, when Cloud was still getting his footing. He wasn’t invested in AVALANCHE, no. For all that he wanted to spit back at Shinra for having denied him his chance and kicking off the events that led to him being homeless, that didn’t drive him the way it seemed to do for the others. No, he was more interested in helping AVALANCHE because they helped him. They still kept a roof over his head and food in his belly.

He helped with those things more, now that he was settled. At first, he had been too sullen, too bitter about the situation. He’d agreed to help because he couldn’t take their charity and Tifa had made it clear she wasn’t going to let him _not_ accept. But AVALANCHE had watched his back since the day Tifa dragged him in kicking and screaming. It wasn’t in him to turn his back on that kind of gesture, especially when, month after month, they remained sincere in their desire to help him as best they could. They seemed to agree with Tifa, that they took care of their own, and that now apparently included him.

He was a Nibel kid, as much as Tifa was. He understood well that they took care of their own. And if AVALANCHE was going to adopt him, he would do the same in return.

He helped clean the rooms above Seventh Heaven that served as living spaces, as well as cleaning the bar itself when he had time. He was in the rotation for grocery shopping and cooking. He insisted on doing the dishes—the only time he didn’t was when he returned from a shift too dead on his feet and someone (usually Tifa) bullied him into turning in for the night instead. It didn’t help that he didn’t take days off unless he was forced to; he insisted that he couldn’t leave Yuffie and Cid to their own devices. He was only talked into taking a break with a firm reminder that Vincent could cover for him, and he only accepted that reminder from either Tifa or Vincent himself. When it came from Tifa, it was usually with no small amount of threatening to carry him off herself. Vincent just gave him a quietly admonishing look that made him feel guiltier than anything else.

Eventually, it wasn’t enough. He was kept extremely busy between the coffee shop and his self-appointed duties at Seventh Heaven, but he’d never really known how to do things in half measures. He insisted on learning how to help Vincent with the back. Tifa scolded him for overworking himself, Biggs said there was no need, Jesse told him he didn’t take enough breaks as it was, but Barret was encouraging. Cloud was proving to be a hard worker, for all of his irreverence toward their goals. Barret distinctly disapproved of the fact that he couldn’t give less of a damn about getting back at Shinra or the environment, that was true. But everyone could see the way he was busting his ass to pull his weight, and Barret had a firm understanding that they always seemed to be understaffed in one way or another.

He gave Vincent the green light to train Cloud.

He’d meant “train” loosely. And yes, Vincent covered what Barret needed him to. But part of Cloud’s training was in how to defend himself. They took care of their own, yes, but if Cloud was going to be a part of this business, he couldn’t rely on them entirely for his safety. When asked, Cloud admitted to some basic knowledge of a sword, having been trained by his mother, and a little hand-to-hand from having taken a handful of lessons under Zangan.

Vincent, who somehow had come across a proficiency in a wide variety of weapons, offered to train him in either of those, but warned him about the restrictions. If he ever came against a SOLDIER, his strength and speed wouldn’t be up to par. He might be able to manage against thugs and troopers, but they were likely to have firearms. SOLDIERs got away with close combat because of their speed, which enabled them to close the gap between them and their opponent before too many shots were fired. Cloud would not have that ability. He had given Tifa the same warning, but she insisted on sticking with hand-to-hand, and Vincent respected that decision.

As it was, Cloud didn’t feel had had enough skill in either swordplay or hand-to-hand to stick by them when Vincent, who had the skill and the knowledge, was recommending guns. So Cloud picked up a pistol and set about learning to use it. His aim was godsawful, at first. But, as with everything, he threw himself into it with arguably too much fervor. He was losing sleep to train, and taking all of his spare moments to shoot at targets, and more than once he’d only been stopped because Vincent took the gun from his hand and gave him that Look that filled him with guilt.

Over time, however, he became a skilled marksman. Vincent was quiet with his approval, but every now and then he would offer a brief, “Good,” or touch his shoulder, and Cloud knew he was doing well.

The weapon training was far harder than the actual training in criminal activity. Running a drug trade wasn’t all that different from running a business, really. A few more precautions and hoops to jump through, different chains of suppliers, a few other odds and ends, but he picked it up quickly. His existing business knowledge made the process quicker and easier.

It was only a year in, when Cloud Nine was a popular business below plate, and Cloud was comfortable enough with the Business that Vincent didn’t have to be there every day, that Cloud realized he was actually _good_ at this. And that was a novel feeling, for him. He’d done poorly in school because he was sullen and didn’t apply himself, he’d done poorly in any sort of physical training because of his build, he’d done poorly in socializing because of both his and the other children’s attitudes. But he didn’t need physical strength to wield a gun well, just dexterity. He’d always had a quick wit, but never the will to try—he had that in abundance now. He even once heard Barret tell Tifa, between an exchanged promise that she didn’t tell Cloud, that he was glad she dragged him in that day.

Cloud never expected to see himself as a barista, or a store manager, much less dealing drugs and getting in the occasional shoot-out, but, in the strangest turn of fate, he seemed to have found his calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that's the end of the intro/scene setting! things should be more plot based going forward


	3. Chapter 3

AVALANCHE had, for quite a while now, been a problem that Shinra was eager to solve. Their mako theft was an issue in and of itself, but what they did with it was arguably a bigger issue. Shinra was supposed to be providing for the people, taking care of them as their form of government and security, and there was now a rampant drug problem. It was mostly contained below the plate, but it was starting to spill above, now, and that was something they absolutely could not abide.

The Turks had been on it for quite a while now. And they remained Shinra’s preferred method of discreet investigation. But there were a few issues with relying solely upon them. The first was the word “discreet.” In general, discretion was something Shinra favored, but sometimes, they had to be seen doing _something_, and that usually meant turning to the SOLDIER program. But, up until this point, the things they needed to be seen handling were fights of one sort of another, which put things firmly in SOLDIER’s wheelhouse anyway. The second was that, no matter how much they might dislike it, the smartest person in Shinra’s employ was not a Turk. He was a SOLDIER.

Which meant that, if they really wanted this solved, and in the public way it needed to be, they had to turn to Sephiroth.

For the most part, Sephiroth followed orders well. It was a rare day when he turned down a mission, and nothing about investigating AVALANCHE was worth that level of fuss. But he also wasn’t particularly inclined to help. He had the mental capabilities to investigate, yes, but none of the training in how to go about it. He was relatively convinced that things were better left with the Turks. Or, at the very least, if this was to be done right, he would have to work with the Turks, which was something he absolutely loathed doing. He and Tseng got along, yes, but from a respectful distance, where they interacted with each other as little as possible. He wasn’t looking forward to the type of close interaction that would be required.

Which led Sephiroth to almost, _almost_ decline.

But the fact of the matter was, he was _bored_. He hadn’t been given a proper challenge since the Wutai War. There was nothing strategic about running into a monster nest. Tracking down the occasional terrorist ring required _some_ thought, but very little. There was no _challenge_ in any of it, and Sephiroth needed something to keep him on his toes. The closest he got anymore was trying to figure out how to do the best he could for the SOLDIER program while remaining in his budget, because he wasn’t Hojo, and wouldn’t go crying to President Shinra every time he wanted something and couldn’t afford it without cutting something else.

So, despite his many issues with the assignment, Sephiroth agreed to take it.

It wasn’t long before he tracked down any number of fronts for dealing, but the Turks had been fully capable of doing that, as well. Finding the fronts wasn’t the issue, because AVALANCHE would just open another. What he had been brought in to do was find the people orchestrating the whole business and apprehend them. And he interviewed every member of every business, from the grunts to the management, and found nothing he could work with. Even those that admitted to dealing said that they didn’t know their suppliers; they picked up their product from a specified location and that was it. And, of course, nothing else was ever delivered to those locations after the fronts had been busted. Sephiroth found himself running up against a brick wall.

Cloud Nine was the latest business he tracked down that seemed to be working for the gang. There were multiple stories of people going in and ordering a special that wasn’t on the menu and being given a paper bag in exchange. It was enough that Sephiroth decided to pay a visit.

What he wasn’t expecting when he walked in to an alleged coffee shop was for it to be raucous.

There was tactful, relatively calm music playing through the speakers overhead, but the employees seemed to be in some sort of spat. The patrons were all acting like this was quite normal.

“Sweet Shiva, Yuffie, how many times do I have to tell you? Three pumps of flavoring, unless they ask for more. Gaia, that monstrosity you just made has to be disgusting. Go on, taste it, see how bad it is,” a diminutive blond was saying, his hands on his hips, his back to Sephiroth.

The Wutaian girl snatched the cup from the counter and took a long slurp before shrugging.

“Tastes fine to me.”

“Because you apparently blew your taste buds out with sugar when you were like six or something. Hell _no_ we’re not serving that. Drink it or toss it, and if another one like it comes across my line a second time, it’s coming out of your check, get me?”

“_Cloud_—”

“Shut up, no. I’ve told you a thousand times and you won’t listen, so I’m gonna start taking your money until you do.”

“Cid, talk to him!”

“What do you want me to say?” an older, blond man with a toothpick in his mouth said, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. “Those drinks you make are foul; you couldn’t pay me to drink ‘em. Listen to the kid.”

“I’m not a kid, how many times do I have to tell _you_ that?” Cloud said.

“One more, same as usual.”

The older man, apparently Cid, jerked his head toward the door, and the apparent manager Cloud turned to look. Sephiroth approached the counter, watching his expression carefully. There was a flicker of surprise, but none of the expected awe or hatred. People were always hot or cold with Sephiroth, never just neutral. But this Cloud did not seem very fazed. He just blinked those wide, wide eyes at him and watched him evenly as he approached.

He glanced over the blond’s shoulder to see Cid’s mouth turned down in distaste and the Wutaian’s face twisted with fury. _Those_ were the reactions he associated with AVALANCHE affiliated businesses. Not the calm indifference on Cloud’s.

“Can I help you?” Cloud said, tucking his hands into his apron absently. If he was putting on an act to appear unruffled, it was a good one.

“You don’t seem bothered by my being here,” Sephiroth said, perhaps bluntly.

Cloud raised an eyebrow at him, “I know you’re famous and all, but it’s not really any of my business. You here for a drink or trying to chat?”

“Perhaps both.”

“Start with the drink, then. What’d’you want?”

“Double espresso, black.”

Cloud glanced over his shoulder at Cid, who pushed off from the counter with a grumble to begin making the drink. He tapped at the register and then read a total to Sephiroth, who handed over the required gil. They traded cash for the receipt, which Sephiroth pocketed before going to sit at the bar.

“Yuffie, go get a jump on taking stock,” Cloud said to the Wutaian girl, who was nearly vibrating with anger.

“But—!”

“_Go_.”

She threw down the towel in her hand and stomped toward the back, slamming the door behind her.

Cloud took the towel from where it landed on the counter and began wiping it down.

“You’ll have to excuse her—I’m sure you can guess why she doesn’t like you.”

“I’m not particularly surprised, no.”

“Thought as much. What’re you doing down here getting coffee? I figured you SOLDIER types all lived above plate.”

Cloud’s expression and tone were perfectly cool and even. If it weren’t for the brief tirade he walked in on, Sephiroth would have thought he was perfectly polite all the time. But, he gathered that most front-of-house people in service industries knew how to turn off their personalities and fall into perfect customer service compliance. The only surprise was that there hadn’t been even a hint of his actual feelings when he’d first caught sight of Sephiroth.

“Missions lead us below the plate at times. It may shock you to learn that even SOLDIERs need caffeine from time to time.”

Cloud snorted, the faintest smile quirking on his lips. And now that Sephiroth thought about it, that was the first hint of even forced mirth he’d seen. Which was odd, because customer service people tended to be all smiles. It left Sephiroth wonder what type of act Cloud was attempting to put on, if he was like this with everyone or if it was specifically for Sephiroth.

“Yeah, I bet your sleep schedule’s a real wreck. How’s whatever led you down here going?”

“Banal, so far. But there is the potential for it to become interesting. It will just take a while to find out.”

As he spoke, Cid nudged Cloud with an elbow and handed him the drink. Cloud took it and jerked his head toward the back, only to be given a deep frown in return. Protest was written into every line and curve of Cid’s face, but Cloud just shook his head minutely. Cid slapped the towel in his apron on the counter and stormed toward the back as Cloud set the espresso on the bar in front of Sephiroth.

“Are you in the habit of dismissing your staff for everyone?” Sephiroth asked, taking the cup and sipping at it as he waited for an answer.

“Not really, no. They don’t like Shinra much, but luckily, we don’t get much of that type around here. Which reminds me, this job of yours sounds like it’ll take a while. You gonna be stopping in often?”

“Perhaps. Will that be an issue?”

“Nah, just gotta give them a firm talking to in case you show up while I’m not around. Don’t wanna come back just to scrub blood out of the floor.”

Sephiroth could feel the amusement cross his face.

“Whose blood do you imagine it being?”

“Depends on whether or not you’re feeling courteous enough to take a hit, I suppose.”

This time, Sephiroth snorted a faint laugh. There was that slight uptick on Cloud’s lips again as he wiped the counter, his eyes mostly on his work, but flicking up occasionally.

“Do you think your staff can’t defend themselves, or think that highly of me?”

Cloud looked at him oddly, his hands pausing.

“We’re civilians. You’re a SOLDIER—pretty much _the_ SOLDIER, at that. You know most folks don’t get combat training, right?”

Sephiroth hummed and took another sip. He supposed it would be too easy if Cloud readily admitted his people were fighters. But there wasn’t even a flicker of dread that passed his face, no sinking in his stomach that Sephiroth could read from his expression. Either his people really _were_ untrained, which would be odd, considering the line of work, Cloud was a very good actor, or he really was innocent. He was banking on actor.

“My mistake. I’ll try not to visit _too_ often. I wouldn’t want to all but shut down your shop with every visit.”

“Eh, you won’t. We get busy, I’ll holler for ‘em, and they’ll pretend like you’re not there until we die back down, when I’ll kick them off to the back again. Don’t let their stubbornness stop you from giving us your gil.”

Sephiroth’s lips curled up, and he said, “Isn’t that a little upfront of you? You’re not even going to pretend that you’re interested in my company?”

“Funnily enough, you don’t seem like the kinda guy interested in bullshit. So honesty it is. Besides, this is a business, isn’t it? Kinda comes with the expectation that, if you’re in here, you’re buying something.”

Sephiroth wasn’t buying any talk of “honesty,” but it was a good pitch.

“You have my word; I won’t darken your doorstep and not purchase something unless I have very good reason.” Like arresting the lot of them.

Cloud raised his eyebrows, his lips quirking up, and said, “‘Good reason,’ huh? Let’s keep it to coffee for now, at least. We’ll talk about anything else later.”

Sephiroth paused, blinking at him. He thought there might be an underlying meaning to the words, some reference he wasn’t getting, but he couldn’t gather the meaning.

At the blank look on his face, Cloud burst into laughter. Strangely enough, it was entrancing to watch. His whole face lit up, and a tension Sephiroth hadn’t even noticed was in his shoulders disappeared. The sound was bright, like bells, and filled the store. Even when he stopped laughing, he seemed more relaxed, the smile still clinging to his face. He propped one hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed that you weren’t trying to flirt with me.”

Sephiroth blinked again, and felt a strange heat creeping onto his face. He coughed into one hand.

“Oh my gods, are you _blushing?_” Cloud said, suddenly excitable, as he laughed again. In a flash, he had his PHS out, and snapped a picture. He looked so delighted that Sephiroth found he was having a hard time getting mad about it.

But he _did_ force a frown onto his face.

“You can’t keep that photograph.”

“Why, bad press?”

“Yes. Please delete it.”

Cloud paused, his face falling. He sighed, and then looked back up at Sephiroth.

“I will if you really want me to, but I swear I won’t give it to the press. They’re not even really below the plate anyway; nothing to report on that anyone plateside cares about.”

“They would give you quite a lot for it.”

“So? That just makes them vultures. I make enough to get by, I don’t need their… it’s not _blood_ money, but you get the idea.”

Sephiroth hummed, thinking it over. It couldn’t do much harm. If it got out, then Shinra could always contain the damage, anyway. That’s what the PR Department was _for_.

“Alright. But keep it to yourself.”

Then he paused, wondering why he was acquiescing at all. This was a possible criminal. A drug dealer, and gods knew what else. One laugh and a pretty smile and he was letting him keep potentially incriminating photographs?

This didn’t bode well.

He opened his mouth to change his mind, but Cloud looked delighted again.

“Thanks. I promise I won’t run around showing it to everyone I know, either.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Sephiroth somehow found himself saying, instead of telling Cloud to delete the photo.

What was going on?

He drank his coffee to hide his bafflement.

“Anyway, you’re welcome to stop by as often as you’d like; people seeing you around will be good for business. Our rushes are around 6-8, morning and night, if you want to avoid the crowds, though.”

“At night, as well?”

“Sure. Below plate runs on cycles; no sun to set the schedule, y’know? There are day places and night places and some places that are open 24 hours. About half the slums is up during the day, about half at night. Helps keep things from feeling too crowded, I think. You really don’t know that?”

Sephiroth took a small drink and said, “Shinra aren’t exactly welcome, below the plate. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Cloud hummed his understanding, finally content with the state of the counter, tucking the towel into his apron.

“Yeah, there’s a fair amount of folks that don’t like your type; Yuffie and Cid aren’t the only ones.”

“And you? Do you dislike ‘my type’ as well?”

Cloud shrugged, leaning back against the counter behind him.

“I think you could do a better job with the monster population so I’m not dodging around corners on my way to work, but you also keep my lights on, and nothing’s ever perfect. So no, I don’t hate you. Just think there are some flaws.”

Which, for a slummer, was a remarkably tame point of view. It brought out what Sephiroth had been considering earlier, and why he knew Cloud wasn’t native to Midgar.

“Rather reasonable for the area, but then, I gather you aren’t from here.”

“How’d’you figure?”

“Your accent.”

Cloud rolled his eyes, but he smiled, so Sephiroth thought it might have been more at himself than anything else.

“Yeah, that is a giveaway, huh?” Then he purposefully accentuated the accent, making his voice into a strange, lovely lilting drawl, “Can’t trick people into thinking you’re from the city when you sound like this.”

“It’s a much better sound than the Midgar accent.”

Cloud blinked, then huffed a laugh, a smile curling on his lips.

“First time I’ve heard that. Usually, it’s just people saying I sound like a hick.”

“It is, admittedly, a more rural sound.”

“‘More rural,’ huh? Tactful.”

“I try.”

He didn’t, usually. He didn’t know why he was now.

Cloud pushed away from where he was leaning to reach forward and take Sephiroth’s now-empty cup.

“You done with this, or you want another?”

Sephiroth found himself disappointed. This was a natural excuse to leave, and he ought to take it, but he found he was enjoying the conversation.

“No, I likely should be returning.”

“Swing by whenever you’re in the area. I’ve gotta go get the boneheads outta the back, but it was nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around?”

“You will,” Sephiroth confirmed, nodding once, and making his way toward the door. Cloud waved at him before he turned his back, and made his own way toward the back area. Sephiroth disappeared through the front door as Cloud did the same into the back.

Sephiroth spent the ride back up to the Tower wondering just what the hell had happened, why he’d been so swayed by Cloud. It couldn’t be because he was _that_ interesting; he wasn’t. Just another store clerk—except he wasn’t, because he wasn’t disarmed by Sephiroth, at all. That was a rare, rare trait. Maybe that was why he was inclined to indulge him. Either way, it said nothing good about the upcoming investigation.

Cloud, meanwhile, was having a small panic attack in the back room of the shop. He braced his hands on his knees and tried to breathe, just breathe, but that was remarkably difficult, and was he hyperventilating?

“Shit,” Cid said, watching Cloud freak out. “Yuffie, go watch the store.”

Cloud shook his head, saying, “I’m—” breathbreathbreath, “fine. Go on. Be there in—a sec.”

Cid looked unconvinced, but when Vincent, who had been lurking in the back room for a while, set a hand on his shoulder, he caved, and followed Yuffie out front.

Vincent calmly and quietly said, “Breathe with my counting. One, two, three, four…”

Vincent walked him through breathing, over and over again, never seeming to grow impatient, until Cloud found himself breathing normally. He looked up at him gratefully before standing upright.

“I’m guessing you were listening through the door?”

“Admittedly, we all were.”

“He knows, doesn’t he?”

“He suspects. My guess is he was sent here to investigate. He has been shutting down other AVALANCHE locations, as you know.”

“I know. Shit, I was hoping he wouldn’t come here.”

“You handled him well, though. You ought to be proud.”

“Thanks, but you heard him. He’s coming back. As many times as it takes to convince him we’re not doing something that we definitely _are_ doing.”

“Take things one day at a time. He won’t be back for the rest of the day, I expect. Figure out some things you’d like to say or not say, perhaps, but don’t let this get into your head. You can handle this. You always do.”

Cloud blinked, then gave Vincent a soft smile.

“Thanks, Vincent.”

“Merely an accurate description of your strengths. But perhaps you should go see that Yuffie and Cid haven’t burnt anything down?”

Cloud sighed, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, probably. Thanks again. For… before.”

“It was nothing.”

He said it so breezily, that Cloud actually believed him. He nodded once, then slipped back through the door, to make sure that Cid and Yuffie hadn’t, actually, managed to light anything on fire.


	4. Chapter 4

Cloud had spent forever trying to figure out what to do about his new Sephiroth problem. He’s spitballed ideas with both Tifa and Vincent and come up empty handed. Part of the problem was that he kept circling around to the idea that no one would possibly think to order drugs with  _ Sephiroth _ in the room watching their every move. But both Tifa and Vincent insisted that  _ yes _ , people could and would be that stupid, and he better have a plan for what he would do when it happened. 

He was mostly hoping it wouldn’t happen as he tried and failed to come up with  _ something.  _

Because Sephiroth  _ was _ coming to the shop now. At least every other day he stopped by, and not on any sort of schedule. He always missed the morning and evening rushes, but that was the only time they could accurately rule his presence out. 

So far, no one had ordered in front of Sephiroth, and he was able to cobble together some sort of plan, though he didn’t think it was a good one, and he was certain they would have angry customers. 

But sooner than he was hoping for, a clearly strung out man came up to the counter and ordered the special under Sephiroth’s watchful eye. It took all of Cloud’s self-control not to give anything away as he asked the man to wait a moment. He went to the back and scowled at Vincent, who pressed a bag into his hand with a knowing look. Cloud shook his head, cursed fervently, and went back to the front. He passed the bag over to the man and took his money before giving him a receipt. The man rushed out. 

Cloud sighed, but wasn’t surprised when Sephiroth stood from his table. They made eye contact as he walked to the door. Cloud raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, going for nonplussed but curious and not sure if he hit it. Sephiroth made no responding expression, just swept out the door. 

His long strides meant Sephiroth caught up to the man quickly. He was staring into the bag with a look of shocked fury on his face. Without a word, Sephiroth snatched the bag out of his hand. 

When he looked inside, all he saw were pastries. 

He shuffled them around, looking for mako syringes, or even a note of some kind, but there was nothing but baked goods to be found. 

He looked up, frustrated, to interrogate the buyer, only to find that he had fled. 

He walked back into Cloud Nine, bag in hand. He set it on the counter in front of Cloud, who was slowly working his way through the drying rack full of wet mugs. He had one in hand, drying it with a towel as he leaned back against the counter behind him. The customer counter in front of him was where Sephiroth very pointedly dropped the bag. Cloud looked up from his mug to the bag, and then up to Sephiroth. He quirked a brow. 

“You in the habit of stealing pastries?”

“From the look on that man’s face, he wasn’t expecting pastries.”

Cloud hummed and said, “Let me guess, the expression went something like this.” He mimicked the customer’s shocked fury perfectly, despite not having been there to see it. 

Sephiroth’s brow furrowed. Not only was Cloud far too calm for a man in his position, he didn’t seem at all surprised by the turn of events. He was being far too blunt with his lack of surprise, too. It was like he didn’t mind that Sephiroth knew the man’s reaction. 

“Along those lines, yes.”

Cloud shrugged and looked away entirely, a testament to how much this apparently didn’t worry him. He turned his attention back to the mug he was drying. 

“The special rotates weekly. People tend to get pissed when they first find out. He must have liked the last one.”

Sephiroth deflated slightly. It was a reasonable explanation, in a way. He still thought the man looked more frustrated than that justified, but it was plausible. 

“Why do you not advertise the special?”

“People like the whole secret menu idea, but it’s too much of a hassle to have a whole secret menu. A secret special is similar, but easier to keep track of.”

Sephiroth pursed his lips this time. That also, annoyingly enough, made sense. 

“Do you not tell people when they first order that it rotates?”

“What, I’m supposed to keep track of whose ordered the special and who hasn’t? Besides, I’m not the only one who works cashier. How would I know whose ordered it when I don’t take all the orders?”

Sephiroth looked further frustrated. He told himself that Cloud had had a few weeks now to orchestrate this and come up with plausible reasonings. Of course they would hold up. 

At the look of frustration, Cloud set the mug and towel down. 

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Cloud asked, looking Sephiroth up and down. 

“What?”

“You hang out here all the time, you bolt out after a man you don’t know to steal his pastries, then you come back here to interrogate me about it. It’s just a special at a cafe, Sephiroth. Why do you care so much about it?”

Was he really daring him to admit it?

“I think you know perfectly well why.”

Cloud just blinked at him. 

“If I knew, would I be asking?”

“This is a clever ruse to cover your actions. You are quite the actor, Cloud, I’ll admit that. But you will slip, sooner or later.”

Cloud’s face turned into amused confusion as he ruffled his hair. 

“What the hell is going on at Shinra that you have this kinda time? You act like you’ve got a conspiracy theory against a godsdamn cafe. Is that what you’ve been doing here, staking me out?”

Cloud framed it as if it was ridiculous, as if they both didn't know he had every reason for his theories. 

“You’re trying to throw me. It won’t work.”

This time, Cloud even chuckled. 

“Throw you from  _ what? _ I’m not hiding anything, Sephiroth.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Show me your back room.”

Cloud laughed again, but it was incredulous. 

“What?”

“You understand that I speak with Shinra’s authority. I’m demanding you show me your back room.”

Cloud looked at him, clearly baffled. 

“You’re pulling out your cop badge to make me

show you where I keep coffee beans?”

“If that is all you keep there.”

Cloud blinked, then sighed. He ruffled his hair again.

“Suit yourself.” 

He led Sephiroth toward the back, which they reached in time to see the back door swing shut. Sephiroth hurried after whoever had left, sure that they must be hiding evidence. 

When he got outside, he saw Vincent, the most rarely seen employee, who only ever came out of the back room for brief, quiet conversations with Cloud, and during the busiest rushes. Vincent looked up at him, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a lighter in his hand. 

“Sephiroth,” Vincent greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Hold your arms out.”

Vincent raised a cool eyebrow, but complied, lighter still in hand. Sephiroth patted him down briskly and quickly, but could feel nothing out of place. 

(Of course a Turk would know how to conceal things better than a SOLDIER would know how to find them.)

He stepped away and began looking through nearby trash cans and boxes for stashes. Vincent lit his cigarette and looked to Cloud, who shrugged. 

“If you’re looking for something, we could help, if we knew what it was,” Vincent offered. Sephiroth glanced over at him but continued his search in silence. 

“He thinks we’re up to something, he just won’t say what. Keeps doing the ‘I know you know’ thing.”

Vincent hummed and took a drag, saying, “Counterproductive.”

“Big time.”

Sephiroth searched but he came up empty. 

“Enjoy your smoke break,” he told Vincent before ducking back inside. Cloud sighed but followed. 

Sephiroth proceeded to dig through their stock room and cabinets and anywhere he thought they could hide something. He read through their account books, looking for numbers that didn’t add up. He tested for hidden compartments and false bottoms. 

He came up empty. Again. 

When he had nowhere left to look, he turned to Cloud, a much clearer look of frustration on his face than he usually allowed. Cloud just shrugged. 

“I told you, didn’t I? We’re just a cafe, Sephiroth. I’m not even sure what you’re accusing us of.”

“Mako distribution. As you are aware of.”

Cloud scoffed outright. 

“ _ Mako _ ? How the hell would I get  _ mako _ ? Do I look like I use?”

“Dealers do not always partake.”

“Do I look like I would even know where to find mako if I  _ tried _ ? Did my accent disappear or did you suddenly forget how backwater I am?”

“You’ve been in the city long enough to open a store, that is long enough to learn where to procure such things.”

“I guess? But I don’t know any country folks who go in for that sort of thing. We’re more tobacco and alcohol types. If we’re gonna get fucked up, it’s the same way our daddies and granddaddies have been doing it for ages.”

Sephiroth frowned. He didn’t know enough about rural people to know if this was true. 

(Cloud didn’t know if this was true, either, he just thought it sounded convincing. People in Nibelheim stuck to those vices, yes, but they didn’t have access to hard drugs. People in the city might be different. Luckily, Sephiroth didn’t seem to know, either.)

Cloud set his hand on Sephiroth’s arm, both watching and feeling him go stiff at the touch. He let his face soften. 

“Listen. I get that this is probably something Shinra put you up to looking into. If you need to look into us, I won’t stop you. I’ll help where I can. I can tell you right now that I don’t deal mako, but I get that you can’t take my word for it. All I’m asking is you try not to freak out my customers while you’re at it, ok? Because I’m sure you scared the shit out of the guy you stole that bag from.”

Sephiroth paused, and frowned. In the case that Cloud was telling the truth, it was a reasonable request. He  _ was _ hampering business, and Cloud had been nothing but polite and cooperative so far. If Cloud was lying, well, it wasn’t like he was going to stop investigating. Just try for a little more tact. 

He found that, as it had been since the first day with that photo of his blush, he had difficulty denying Cloud. Especially when he was looking at him, soft around the eyes, with a gentle hand on his arm. 

He nodded slowly. 

“I will try to be subtle, but I will continue investigating,” Sephiroth warned. 

Cloud smiled, and it was brilliant. 

“Didn’t ask you to stop, did I? But thank you, that’ll help.”

With that, he led Sephiroth back to the front, to find that Vincent must have finished his cigarette, because he was handling the line at the register. Cloud cursed and hurried over to start making the drinks, seeming to forget all about Sephiroth for the moment. 

Sephiroth went back to his table and sipped at his drink, only to find it cold. He wrinkled his nose and set it back down on the table. He settled back to watch Cloud work. He didn’t seem flustered, the way he should have been, if he had the close call he must have when Sephiroth looked through his back room. He seemed focused on his work, but not so focused that he couldn’t smile at Vincent when he handed off the drinks. He was much more relaxed with Vincent than Sephiroth would have imagined, given how little time they actually spent working together. Yet there seemed to be an easy familiarity between them, especially when Cloud teased him into putting his hair up in a ponytail. Vincent didn’t seem aggravated by the tease, just faintly amused as he complied. They looked like friends who worked together well more than coworkers. 

Sephiroth wondered, for the first time, if he might not be off about Cloud Nine. Usually, when he searched a front, evidence came up quickly, even when efforts had been made to hide it. Usually, the managers betrayed  _ some _ hint of nerves as they lied to him. But his search had come up empty, and Cloud never seemed at all bothered. This just wasn’t going the way these investigations had in the past. 

And that was promising. Because Sephiroth did not fully believe that he was wrong, which meant that he was in for an actual  _ challenge _ this time. That wasn’t something he’d had in quite a while. Cloud was proving to be a worthy opponent. 

Sephiroth smiled as he watched the man work. 

Yes, this was very promising. 


	5. Chapter 5

Vincent, for the most part, allowed Cloud complete control over his store front. He had been thoroughly trained and demonstrated a complete understanding of what he had been taught. He had no reason to interfere, the vast majority of the time. When he  _ did _ , it was less because Cloud was failing the business, and more because he was neglecting himself. This was how it came to be that Vincent, kindly but firmly, ordered Cloud to return home before closing, the day Sephiroth demanded to search the store. His hands had been shaking so bad he spilled six times, and if he was so distressed that he was having these kind of outward signs, it had gone too far. Cloud was generally very good at hiding his emotions when he chose, and the uncontrollable shaking of his hands was very telling. 

“What? No, Vincent. I’m staying until closing.”

“You did excellently today, Cloud. No one could ask more of you. But if you don’t leave now, I will leave Yuffie in charge and drag you home myself.”

Cloud scowled, knowing Vincent was good for his word. Better to spare himself the indignity, and leave someone he trusted to run things properly in charge. 

“Call if you need me. Or if he comes back,” Cloud said, tugging his apron up over his head. 

“If you’d like.”

He nodded to Vincent and then ducked into the back room to hang his apron before he left. 

On his way home, he focused carefully on his breathing, the way he had been since Sephiroth left. He refused to have another meltdown, the way he had when he’d first shown up. He couldn’t stop how his hands shook, though, so he buried them in his pockets where no one would notice. The walk home passed it a blur and a fog; he was too focused on not losing it to even remember how he got home, but suddenly he was climbing the steps to Seventh Heaven. He ducked into the bar to find Tifa waiting behind the counter for him. A cup of some dark liquid on ice was sitting on the bar top. 

Cloud took stock of what he saw, and then sighed. 

“Vincent called?”

“Yup,” Tifa said, still leaning back against the counter, her arms folded over her chest. “Said you had a hell of a day.”

Cloud scowled but went to go sit on the stool in front of the drink, where he remained silently until Tifa caught his eye, looked at the glass, and then made expectant eye contact again. Cloud scowled harder but took a sip, feeling the burn slide down his throat. He put the glass back down and his hands back in his lap before she could see that he still trembled. 

“Someone ordered the special in front of Sephiroth.”

“Shit,” Tifa said, lowering her arms. “That explains it.”

Cloud nodded and took another drink. 

“We gave him the pastries, and Sephiroth didn’t really seem to buy that that’s what the special really is. He wanted to search the back, and I couldn’t tell him  _ no.  _ He even searched Vincent, who had our entire stock on him, plus his gun, and we’re damn lucky he didn’t find them. I don’t  _ think  _ I gave anything away, but holy shit, y’know?”

“Cloud, you’ve always been the best actor I’ve known, ever since I saw you lie perfectly to your mama’s face and tell her no one was bullying you. I wasn’t there, but I didn’t have to be to know you didn’t give anything up.”

Cloud smiled, a little shakily, but relaxed some at the words. He took a slightly deeper drink this time, rolling the glass between his palms after; his hands had stopped shaking. He hung his head and blew out a slow breath, the knot in his chest unwinding a little. 

Tifa grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and set it next to his glass. 

“I know you don’t drink much, but you should, tonight. If not to relax, then to celebrate getting through a scrape.”

“Tifa—“

“Trust me on this, Cloud. You know when someone needs two shots of espresso instead of one. I know the same, except with shots of whiskey instead. Let Vincent worry about the shop tonight. You got us through a tight spot; you earned a night to yourself and a stiff drink.”

Cloud wanted to argue more, but Tifa could be as stubborn as he could, when she wanted to. She had a protective streak a mile wide, and had no patience for Cloud’s self-sacrificing. If he didn’t take care of himself up to her standards, she would hold him down and make him. It was easier to follow her verbal warnings before they turned physical and spare himself the humiliation of Tifa tossing him over her shoulder, or pinning him to the floor, or whatever else she came up with. Between her seniority and the fact that all of AVALANCHE knew how little he took care of himself by now, he couldn’t expect a rescue, either. 

Seeing him relent by the expression on his face, Tifa went back to cleaning the bar, leaving him to his drink. 

When Cloud went back the next day, he felt infinitely better than he would have if he pushed through to the end of shift. Vincent didn’t gloat about this, just set a hand on his shoulder when he walked past, and that was enough. 

Cid gave him a gruff, “Good job,” but said nothing else. 

Yuffie grinned wildly and said, “‘Atta boy,” and slapped his ass as she went past. 

She was put on dish duty for that. 

Over all, it was a relatively normal day. It didn’t even seem that unusual when Sephiroth came in; Cloud was getting used to seeing him. His stomach flipped a little in nerves, but he was sure the smile he gave was steady. 

“I have a proposition for you,” Sephiroth said, instead of ordering. 

“I’m listening,” Cloud said, already tapping at the register. “Your usual?”

“Yes, please. You would like me to investigate more subtly.”

“That’s what I asked, yeah,” he said, trading Sephiroth the receipt for gil. When he stepped aside to start making his usual black double shot, Sephiroth followed. 

“I found nothing on the premises yesterday, so until I decide to spring another search on you, there is no reason why my investigation needs to occur in the building.”

“Makes sense. What’s your plan, then? You clearly have one.”

“I understand that I will get nothing but vitriol from Yuffie and Cid. Vincent I will speak to later, but he is largely unreadable; I do not expect to get anything from him. I would like to take you to another location to talk.”

Cloud blinked at him. 

“Hoping I’ll slip and give you some of this mystery information you’re after?”

“Given the correct verbal tactics, I imagine you will give something away sooner or later, yes.”

Cloud blinked again, slower this time, and then laughed brightly. He passed the espresso over. 

“This is the most absurd date I’ve ever been asked on.”

Sephiroth took the drink, looking incredibly confused for a long moment, before it slowly dawned on him what Cloud was implying. He thought he could feel heat creep into his face again, but was hoping he was mistaken. He knew he wasn’t when Cloud grinned at him. 

“I have no romantic intentions. This is purely business. I am actively attempting to undermine you.”

Cloud cooed at him and tilted his head to the side with a smile. 

“You can just say you like me, Sephiroth. You don’t need an excuse to ask someone out.”

“I am hardly asking you out. I am making a strategic attempt to get you to make a mistake and give information you are trying to withhold.”

“So you’re trying to get my guard down with a date.”

“It is not a  _ date _ .”

“It could be both.”

It was Sephiroth’s turn to blink at him. 

Cloud grinned and leaned forward, his hands on the counter. 

“Shame. Maybe I would have liked it to be one,” Cloud said, his voice a pretty hum. 

Cloud had no interest in Sephiroth except his absence. But, he thought, Sephiroth was human like the rest of them. He was able to be blinded by emotion like anyone else. If he got the man invested, got him a little unprofessionally interested, he might be willing to let some things slide, in case he ever did slip. It couldn’t hurt to have a few safeguards in place. Better safe than sorry. 

Sephiroth looked at him in amazement. He didn’t seem to consider what Cloud was offering to be an actual option. Maybe he knew what Cloud was planning, that he had ulterior motives. 

If he knew, it didn’t seem to be stopping him. 

“I have no interest in romantic relations,” he reiterated. 

Cloud leaned back and shrugged. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“Cloud!” Yuffie shouted, leaning out from the back room where she had been exiled. “If you suck his dick I won’t forgive you!”

Cloud hadn’t even been considering using his body to get his way,  _ thank you very much _ . He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, at least half to hide the blush on his face. 

“Yuffie, you’ve been on thin ice all morning, you really wanna push me right now?”

He still hadn’t forgiven her for slapping his ass, and he’d made that clear a few times now. 

“If this is because I slapped your ass—“

“ _ Yuffie _ , say one more word and I’m cutting all your shifts for the rest of the week without pay.”

“Can I—“

“No you cannot use your sick time. One more word, Yuffie, I swear. Go ahead. Push me.”

Yuffie ducked back behind the door. 

Cloud shook his head and looked back up at Sephiroth, who looked infinitely amused. None of his former seriousness was there anymore; he looked as unprofessional as Cloud had seen him, short of blushing. 

“Something funny?” Cloud grouched. 

“Are you in the habit of letting others manhandle you?”

“No, I’m not. You better keep your hands to yourself on our date.”

This successfully knocked the smug look off Sephiroth’s face. He scowled. 

“It’s not—“

“Give me one good reason why it can’t be.”

“I do not consort with criminals.”

“I thought the whole point of this is that you aren’t sure I  _ am _ a criminal.”

“I am certain; I just lack evidence.”

“If there’s no evidence, how are you sure?”

“Deductive reasoning.”

Cloud scoffed and said, “If that was good enough, you would have hauled me in by now.”

“It is not enough for an arrest, but it’s enough for me to have confidence.”

“What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty?’” 

“Again, that is a legal requirement, not a personal standard of mine. You are a criminal and we both know it.”

“We don’t, because I’m not. I make lattes all day for bitchy customers whose parents never taught them manners. How is that criminal behavior?”

“It is the requirement of running a front for drug dealing, as you do.”

“You couldn’t find anything here yesterday.”

“I will, with time. Will you come with me or not?”

“I have half a mind to make you admit it’s a date first, but yeah, give me a second.”

Cloud pulled the apron up over his head and ducked into the back, where Yuffie was close enough to the door to clearly be eavesdropping. Vincent was leaning back against a shelf, but pushed away as Cloud entered, already reaching back to tie his hair up. Cloud still wasn’t sure how Vincent seemed to be able to hear what no regular human should be able to, but he learned not to ask so many questions about a deeply private man who made absolutely no sense. 

“Sorry about this. You sure you’re good to cover? I can ask him to come back another day.”

“Go on your date,” Vincent said, a mirthful twinkle in his eye. He clearly knew what Cloud was doing, he was brilliant and never above something mildly immoral, but he also wasn’t above laughing at Cloud’s expense. 

“You sure—“ Yuffie started

“Yuffie, what’d I say?”

Her mouth shut with a clack. 

“Be safe,” Vincent said as he set a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. He was unwilling to go into further detail when he knew how sensitive Sephiroth’s hearing must be. Cloud sighed but nodded as he hung his apron on the wall. 

“Call me if you have any trouble. I’ll be back before closing.”

“Take your time, there’s no need to hurry.”

“I won’t leave you understaffed to handle the heavy lifting.”

“We will manage. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

“But—“

“Go, Cloud. Worry less.”

They both understood that was like asking the rain not to fall, but neither mentioned it. 

Cloud went back to the front of the shop, where a now-empty cup was sitting in front of Sephiroth. He took it and put it in the sink, incapable of doing nothing about it when he was abandoning them, before rounding the counter and leading the way out of the shop. 

“Do you always worry so much about leaving the shop in someone else’s hands?”

Cloud sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“Not because I think I can hide drugs better than they can, if that’s why you’re asking. I just don’t like other people picking up my slack.”

“Everyone needs to take breaks from time to time.”

“I take my lunch break and my tens.”

“I should rephrase. Everyone needs days off, yet every time I visit, you are somehow there.”

Cloud groaned, letting his head fall back. 

“I don’t need you on my case too.”

“Who else bothers you about this?”

“Everyone at the shop. My friends outside it. Pretty much everyone I know, actually.”

“Perhaps you should listen, if you are so outnumbered.”

Strangely enough, Sephiroth found he disliked the idea of Cloud working himself to the bone. 

“Not a chance. If I don’t work, that means someone else has to.”

“That is how the world works, yes.”

“I won’t have someone else working extra hours because I got lazy.”

“I hardly call it being lazy. Do you not think that they feel the same way?”

“What way?”

“That they dislike you picking up extra hours so they don’t have to.”

Cloud scoffed. Vincent, Yuffie, and Cid had all told him as much in the past. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m the owner, it’s my responsibility.”

Sephiroth hummed. He could understand that. There were many times he took extra missions, led extra charges from the front lines because he felt it his responsibility as a leader. But he also understood that there were other factors, and the value of delegation. 

“If you overwork yourself, it will haunt you. Be it in exhaustion, illness, or injury, you cannot keep this up forever. Then you may be unable to be there for your subordinates when they actually need you.”

Cloud paused and looked up at Sephiroth. There was some honesty there, some experience talking. It was a little more truth than he expected from the man, but then, he’d been unexpectedly honest himself in this conversation. 

“Why does that sound like something you learned the hard way?”

“In the beginning of the Wutai War, I entered every battle that occurred in my proximity. It wore me down enough that I sustained heavy injury in a battle. When we retreated, I was unable to cover our exit, and we lost many men, because they insisted on covering me instead. I learned to rely on my lieutenants more after that.”

Cloud looked at him consideringly for so long that Sephiroth looked back and raised an eyebrow. He looked forward. 

“Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Cloud, do not deflect.”

“I’m not deflecting, I’m refusing to get mushy with a man I don’t know well, especially since he’s refusing to call this a date. Where are we headed?”

Sephiroth sighed and said, “A bar. I was given to understand that informal meeting locations included coffee shops, bars, and restaurants. It isn’t a meal time, and I thought you might be tired of coffee.”

“Did you ask someone for a list of places where ‘informal meetings’ usually happen?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because whoever it was told you the usual options for first dates. I think everyone but you knows this is a date, Sephiroth.”

He scowled; he was going to give Zack extra paperwork for this. He could imagine his SiC laughing back in the Tower. 

“I was unaware.”

Cloud laughed, but waved his hand, saying, “Doesn’t matter, I like bars just fine.”

But now that he mentioned it, they  _ were _ on a very familiar path. In fact, they were terribly close to the last place he wanted to take Sephiroth. 

“What bar did you have in mind?” Cloud asked, glancing up at Sephiroth, who glanced back at him. 

“Seventh Heaven. I’ve heard it has good service, and the name reminded me of Cloud Nine.”

Yeah, fuck Wedge for suggesting that name, and fuck the lot of them for not thinking anyone would notice the similarities. 

There was nothing inherently wrong with the businesses being connected. In fact, Cloud directed late night customers there when he thought they might need to relax, and Tifa directed her patrons to him to fix their hangovers in the morning. But it wasn’t entirely unknown, below plate, that Seventh Heaven was AVALANCHE affiliated. It wasn’t common knowledge, per se, but not extremely difficult to find out, if you moved in the right circles. The question was, did Sephiroth know? If he did, he likely would have begun investigating the business, made some move to shut it down, and he hadn’t. But maybe he was collecting information before doing a sting on such a prominent location. Cloud didn’t know for sure, and he couldn’t say whether it would be bad for Sephiroth to know he knew the staff. If he knew, then it would be another nail in the coffin, a tie between Cloud and AVALANCHE. If Cloud pretended ignorance and got caught, however, it could be catastrophic. It would prove he was hiding something. 

He’d barely come to a decision on what to do by the time Sephiroth pushed open the door and held it for him. 

He walked in and led them to a booth in the corner, not bothering to make eye contact with Tifa as he shuffled in one side, Sephiroth sliding in across from him. Tifa came over with a notepad in hand, looking a little uncertain; probably trying to decide if she should show she knew him. 

Cloud made the decision for her. He grinned wide and called, “Hey Teef,” as she made her way over. 

He’d gotten this far by hiding as little as possible. The best lies were half truth, after all. Being brazen had worked up until this point, and Cloud thought it might continue to. 

“Hey, Cloud,” she said, smiling back, and Cloud was certain he could only see the tension on her face because he knew her. “What can I get you two?”

“That Nibel ale for me. Sephiroth?”

They both looked to Sephiroth, who had been watching them very closely. The laser focus of his attention told Cloud that yes, yes he was aware of Seventh Heaven’s reputation, and yes this had been a test. 

“I don’t drink.”

Yup, definitely a test. 

“C’mon,” Cloud said, leaning an elbow on the table and his cheek on his knuckles. “You can’t drag me on a date you won’t call a date  _ and _ make me drink alone.”

“I fully intend to.”

“Why’d you pick a bar if you weren’t going to drink?”

Tifa looked between them as they spoke like she was watching a game of tennis. 

“I think you know why.”

Cloud groaned and said, “Not more of this ‘I know you know’ bullshit.”

“Would you like me to say it, here of all places?”

“What does  _ that _ mean?”

Sephiroth sighed his exasperation, saying, “How long do you intend to play ignorant?”

“I dunno, how long do you intend to pretend this isn’t a date?”

“I’m not pretending; it  _ isn’t.  _ You, however, clearly are.”

“I’m not. You know something about Seventh Heaven that I don’t?”

“Its reputation for being an AVALANCHE haven, to start with. How were you not aware when you live below plate, and clearly frequent this establishment?”

Cloud scoffed and said, “You gotta stop believing everything you here, first of all. Second, how would I know that? I told you, I don’t run in druggie circles.”

“If you are here often, you would have overheard the rumors.”

“Do you really think people would talk about a possible gang affiliation in the place they’re gossiping about? Now stop stalling and tell her your order so she can get back to what she was doing.”

“I told you, I don’t drink. Alcohol has no effect on me; it’s pointless.”

“Then drink it for the taste. Order or I’ll order for you and this will  _ really  _ look like a date.”

Sephiroth sighed in frustration. He knew nothing about alcohol; that was Zack’s was area of expertise, and Genesis’s before him. He didn’t know what Zack drank, as it was always some different concoction, but he knew Genesis’s preference, and it was admittedly the extent of his alcohol knowledge. 

“Red wine, then,”

“What kind?” Tifa asked. 

“What?”

“... What kind?”

“Red.”

“What kind of red?”

His brow furrowed. 

“Sweet Shiva, do you live under a rock?” Cloud asked, an incredulous look on his face. 

“As I already said, I have no reason to drink; why would I know the particulars?”

Cloud rolled his eyes and shifted to put his chin in his palm. 

“He seems like a merlot type, huh? What do you think, Tifa?”

She hummed and said, “I think that carries with the image Shinra put out of him.”

Cloud wrinkled his nose and said, “You’re right, and I don’t think that’s accurate. Get him a riesling.”

“That’s a white.”

“He’ll like it better.”

Sephiroth watched, disconcerted, as they debated. He didn’t like that Cloud apparently knew him well enough to know Shinra’s image wasn’t accurate. He hadn’t thought he’d given that much away. 

“I’ll bring both,” Tifa said before scribbling something on her notepad and walking away. 

“So,” Cloud said as she left. “Lay it on me.”

“Pardon?”

“C’mon, bring your interrogation. Do your worst.”

Sephiroth couldn’t decide if Cloud just had that excellent a sense of bravado, or if he really did have nothing to fear. Either way, he launched in. 

He used every tactic he knew. He tried implying that he already knew and that Cloud might as well admit it. He tried threatening that things would be worse if he had to force the truth from him, but that he could make things easier if Cloud came clean. He tried referencing the truth he knew to trick Cloud into admitting he knew something he shouldn’t. He talked about other things before casually referencing the important subjects to try and lower Cloud’s defenses. He calmly threw out how terrible he could make things for those Cloud cared about it he didn’t cooperate. He even stooped to using his most seductive purr and promising to make being honest worth Cloud’s while. 

That had just made Cloud laugh in his face. 

Nothing seemed to work. He didn’t budge. He didn’t flinch or sweat or fidget. He showed no nervous tics. All he did, once their drinks came out, was sip calmly at his beer. He always answered, and half the time, his responses were joking or teasing. He kept offering to admit the truth if Sephiroth admitted this was a date. 

Eventually, out of outright frustration, after hearing it a dozen times, Sephiroth sighed impatiently and said, “Fine. This is a date.”

Cloud blinked, then crowed his laugh of delight. 

“Tifa!” he called between laughs. “Hey Teef! He admitted this is a date! I’m dating Sephiroth!”

She cheered, and the bar followed suit, and Sephiroth only barely managed to fight back his blush. 

“We are not  _ dating _ .”

“You just said it was a date.”

“I’m given to understand there’s a difference.”

“I  _ guess _ , if you want to be  _ technical _ . Take me on another, then we’ll be dating.”

“Are you going to admit the truth or not?”

Cloud laughed and smiled brightly, saying, “There’s nothing to admit, Sephiroth. I only said that so you’d admit this was a date, but I didn’t think you’d really do it.”

Sephiroth sighed and switched tactics. 

Now, no matter what he tried, Cloud just kept bringing up that they were on a date. He reminded him that you ought to be nicer to your date, that he ought to pay for their drinks since it was his idea, and was that any way to talk to his date? It was becoming so infuriating that it was distracting. 

(Which was exactly why Cloud did it.)

Eventually, Cloud stopped humoring him entirely, pointing out, “You haven’t tried your drinks.”

“Will you be honest with me if I do so?”

“Sure.”

Sephiroth didn’t believe him, but he took a sip of each anyway. 

“Which did you like better?” Cloud asked, leaning forward in interest. 

“The white. Now come clean.”

“I  _ knew _ it would be the riesling. Shinra’s image of you is bullshit.”

While Sephiroth privately agreed, he said, “The truth, Cloud.”

The blond just rolled his eyes and took a drink from his own glass. 

“You really didn’t learn from admitting this is a date that I’m just going to tell you that to get you to do what I want?”

Sephiroth scowled and said, “That is lying.”

“No, it’s promising you something I don’t have. If I made up this ‘truth’ you’re after, that would be lying. Because there’s no secret ‘truth.’ I’m not hiding anything.”

“You are associated with a known AVALANCHE-affiliated business.”

“I already told you, I don’t know anything about that. As far as I know, this is just a bar.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“You keep saying that, and it’s a very impolite way to treat your date.”

Sephiroth sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he lowered his hand, Cloud was grinning unapologetically at him. 

“Fine. You’re free for tonight. But we will be doing this again, and I will get my answers.”

“Wow, a second date? I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

“ _ Cloud _ .”

Cloud chuckled, but set down his glass.

“You can swing by whenever you like, the same as usual, but if you want another date, it’ll have to be after closing.”

“I thought we already discussed your overworking habits.”

“No, you talked, and I’m still trying to decide if I want to listen. Until then, I’m not leaving my people understaffed. After closing, or no date.”

Sephiroth sighed and said, “After closing, then. Goodbye, Cloud.”

He didn’t wait for a response before exiting the booth, but he hardly got to standing before Cloud said, “Wait!” It was only when he looked back that Cloud batted his eyelashes and said, “No goodnight kiss?”

When Cloud was clearly joking and he had already given up on the investigation for the night, it was easier to huff a laugh, instead of getting frustrated

“I don’t think so.”

“Trade you for the truth?”

This time, Sephiroth chuckled outright and said, “Good _ bye _ , Cloud.”

He grinned back, unrepentant but also not disappointed. 

“See you around.”

Sephiroth made his way through the bar, even the drunkest patrons clearing out of his way, and left without another word. 

Cloud groaned aloud, crossed his arms on the tabletop, and dropped his head on top of them

He only glanced up when he heard a glass hit the table in front of him. 

Tifa slid into the booth across from him, the same tumbler of whiskey from last night sitting next to his empty beer glass. 

“You’re amazing, Cloud, you know that?”

“He’s gonna give me a fucking heart attack if he keeps this up.”

“I don’t blame you, but seriously, that was impressive. I’m glad we gave you Cloud Nine; no one else would have held up like that.”

“Yeah right.”

“Seriously. You think  _ Barret _ wouldn’t have given something away? Or, gods, Wedge? He would have been a puddle on the floor. And Jessie would have fidgeted so hard she’d vibrate out of the booth.”

Cloud shrugged and said, “You don’t know that.”

“The hell I don’t.” She pushed the whiskey closer to him. “You earned that. You better finish it, and you’re not allowed to help clean up the bar tonight. Don’t even think about going to go help close Cloud Nine, either.”

“What? Tifa, come  _ on. _ ”

“No. You already earned your keep tonight, Cloud.” She stood and exited the booth, and when he opened his mouth to protest, she put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. You do more than you understand for us.”

Before he could figure out what to say to that, she left for the bar. 

Cloud sighed and eyed his new drink for a long moment, before giving an even longer sigh and taking a sip from it. He spun the glass on its edge against the wood of the table. 

Quietly, with no one paying attention to notice it, Cloud allowed himself to feel a little proud. Then he quickly put it aside as he sipped his drink. 

Couldn’t let one date go to his head, after all. 


	6. Chapter 6

Cloud had gotten accustomed to seeing Sephiroth around the shop. That was odd, for a lot of reasons, but the biggest was that he never would have thought he’d be comfortable with the man in the room. But he came to be just another regular; a regular that lurked longer than he ought to, mind, but still a regular. He wondered more than once where he found the time to hang out at the cafe, and how he wasn’t busy with work.

When he’d asked one day, he was told, “This is work. And I can get some things done from my PHS while I’m here.”

And that was the odd thing. That, more and more lately, he only seemed to really remember that Sephiroth was investigating when he brought it up. If he was trying to trick him into letting his guard down, it was working, and that was dangerous. 

Especially now that Sephiroth was taking him out regularly, and had stopped the outright interrogation. He would show up at closing and linger outside the door until Cloud came out. Then they would go to a restaurant, a bar, even once to Wall Market to wander the shops. They had completely normal conversations. They nagged each other about working too hard. 

Once, Cloud had tried asking outright. 

“Is this your new plan? Act normal with me, pretend to be friends, to try and get me to trust you enough I let something slip?”

“Why?” Sephiroth took a sip of his drink—a riesling, what he always ordered now. “Is it working?”

“That’s a dirty trick.”

“Not if you have nothing to hide, as you’ve always claimed.”

“ _ Especially  _ if I have nothing to hide. Then you’re just pretending to be my friend for no reason. Eventually, you’re going to realize that there’s no secret to find out, and then what? You gonna hang me out to dry?”

Privately, Cloud was hurt by the idea. He didn’t know when he’d gotten invested, but he had. He thought it might have been the end of that first date, when he’d made bad jokes and Sephiroth finally let himself laugh at them. He’d gotten a taste, then, of what might have been if there wasn’t this secret hanging between them. The “what if”s were on his tongue, and sometimes he daydreamed about what might have been, if Cloud wasn’t a part of AVALANCHE. But those things were dangerous, because that wasn’t the case, and AVALANCHE had won his loyalty; he wasn’t going to abandon them for a pretty face that had no sincere interest in him. That didn’t mean he didn’t think about it sometimes. 

“And if I did? You’ve been trying to get me to leave since I first arrived.”

That was true, but only made sense if you knew that Cloud had something to hide. They both  _ did _ know that, but Cloud couldn’t admit to it. 

So he scowled and said, “I’ve been nothing but cooperative from day one. I could have made you get warrants, and refused to talk to you unless I was formally charged, but I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you wanted me there.”

“I never appreciated being under suspicion, no. But I understand that that’s your job. I  _ thought _ that might not color your personal opinion.”

“I’ve always been clear that I don’t consort with criminals.”

Except he’d been deliberately giving Cloud the impression that he did. And Cloud had been falling for it. 

“And I’ve always been clear that I’m not a criminal.”

“I don’t believe that to be true.”

“Then what have you been up to, with all these dates?”

“Cloud, please. You know full well what my intention was.”

“Maybe. Maybe I want to hear you say it, so you know how much of an ass you sound like.”

Sephiroth sighed impatiently and said, “My goal has been to endear myself to you so that you will let your guard down and let something slip. And I suspect it’s been working, if you are this upset about it.”

Cloud could feel himself blushing, but he’d deny it until he died. 

“I’m not a criminal, Sephiroth, and I’m not a SOLDIER. I don’t do undercover shit and talk in double-speak. I don’t walk around assuming people are being nice to me because they have ulterior motives because normal people don’t  _ do _ that. I thought that maybe you weren’t a fucking robot and actually had some feelings, even if you did what you’re told all the time like a perfect little SOLDIER. My fucking bad; should have known better.”

Cloud stood abruptly and fished in his wallet for gil to pay for his drink. 

“Cloud, that—“

“Save it for someone who wants to hear it, Sephiroth.”

He slapped his gil on the table and stormed away, feeling a fool for plenty of reasons. The foremost was that he was taken in by Sephiroth’s act.  _ He  _ was supposed to be the actor;  _ he _ was the one who was supposed to be playing Sephiroth. How far up his ass had his head gotten for him to let himself get in that deep? He knew better. He knew what was on the line. He couldn’t afford to care for the enemy, and there was clearly no way they could be anything but. The egg was on his face, and he certainly felt it. 

Moreover, on a simpler, baser level, he was hurt because he got invested in someone who wasn’t invested in him in return. Anyone would feel like shit for that, but coupled with the fact that he never should have believed Sephiroth was being genuine, that he had always known better than to trust him? He was ashamed on top of the hurt. 

When Cloud came home that night, Tifa had taken one look at him and come over to hug him. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Cloud mumbled into her shoulder. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew immediately what he meant; he and Sephiroth had had plenty of dates in Seventh Heaven, giving her ample time to realize what was happening, even if he hadn’t. 

“You’ve always see the best in people, even when you didn’t want to. You lie to yourself and try to remind yourself of all their faults, and most of the time you remember them, but you also don’t forget that there’s good in them. It’s a good thing, Cloud. It just also bites you in the ass sometimes.”

“I knew I couldn’t trust him. I  _ knew _ . I just hoped anyway.”

“As much as you try to be a pessimist, Cloud, your first instinct is always optimism. I’ve watched you crush that gut reaction under the negative so many times, and that’s what you usually act on, but you always have that flash of light first.”

“Well it sucks. I don’t want it if it means shit like this happens.”

“Take tomorrow off. Give yourself a break from him, if not from work.”

“But—“

“No buts. Vincent will cover you. Come help me clean the bar to get rid of your nerves. But if you try to go in tomorrow, Vincent will just drag you back.”

Cloud let out a groan of frustration, but pulled away to go help her clean. 

He listened to her, though. The next day, he worked at Seventh Heaven, manning the bar the way he used to before Cloud Nine opened.

What he didn’t expect was that the conversation affected Sephiroth, as well. 

He left the bar after paying for his drink with a strangely sour taste on his tongue. He didn’t know why, but it had bothered him, deeply, to see Cloud so upset. It had been especially bad to know he caused it. He’d gotten accustomed to his smiles and his laughter, over this last month of dates. Seeming him flushed with shame and angry to poorly attempt to cover the hurt had made Sephiroth feel strangely desperate to soothe it all away. To say absolutely anything, to get Cloud to smile again, and for things to go back to normal. 

He spent the night reflecting on that urge instead of sleeping, and came to a very disturbing conclusion. 

He  _ cared _ about Cloud. Which he shouldn’t. He was a criminal. He was investigating him with aims to arrest him. The goal was to see him behind bars. But that was distinctly not what he wanted anymore. He had spent so much time getting to know Cloud in hopes of lowering his guard that he had dropped his own instead. He got invested, when he knew full well Cloud was off limits. It was unprofessional. It was a plain old bad idea. But here he was, with feelings he couldn’t deny, now that he’d taken a proper look at them. 

He resolved to set things right as soon as he was able. 

He went to Cloud Nine when it opened at 5am, but didn’t find Cloud there. Which was odd, because no matter how many discussions they had about overworking themselves, he had still yet to see Cloud take any time off. 

So he approached the counter, wary to see Vincent behind it. 

“Can I help you?” Vincent said politely, looking at him with a perfectly even expression. 

“Yes. Is Cloud in the back?”

“He isn’t.”

“When will he be in, then?”

“He isn’t coming in today.”

Sephiroth blinked in surprise. Then he had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he guessed at the why. 

“I see. Is he ill?”

“No.”

“Injured?”

“Sephiroth. We both know why he isn’t here; do you really need me to say it?”

His stomach plunged to between his boots. 

“That’s what I need to talk to him about.”

“I doubt he’ll want to discuss it. No matter what you might say to salvage your position, he won’t believe you.”

“But I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“Does that matter, if he can’t trust what you say?”

“But he has to believe me; I won’t lie.”

“Sephiroth, he has been telling you for months now that he’s telling you the truth. Have you ever once believed that he wasn’t lying to you?”

Sephiroth scowled. They both knew the answer, and it was a damning one. 

“I have to try.”

Vincent shrugged. 

“If you think I’ll tell you where he is, you’re mistaken. Find him on your own if you can; no one here will help you. Did you want to order?”

It was incredibly clear and incredibly final. Sephiroth turned without a word and left. 

As he stood outside, he tried to make a list of places he thought Cloud might be. He thought of some of the locations they went to repeatedly on their dates, but as far as he knew, Cloud didn’t visit most of those on his own. The only one he knew Cloud had an outside affiliation with was Seventh Heaven, where he’d known the staff on their first visit. But that didn’t open until 6pm, which left Sephiroth with a significant amount of time to kill. 

He tried a few of their usual haunts anyway, just to come up as empty handed as he expected. 

He returned to Cloud Nine, intending to work from his PHS and watch the store for suspicious activity at the same time. He’d been there for maybe half an hour before Vincent came over to his table. He picked up his dirty coffee cup, but when he didn’t leave, Sephiroth looked up. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why?”

“Because Cloud isn’t here, and he is the one who humors you. Because you hurt my friend with your determination that we’re doing something wrong here, and that makes me no longer inclined to indulge you. Please leave.”

“If this is some kind of cover—“

“Sephiroth, nothing illegal is going to happen when you leave. We will serve coffee. If you are determined to do another search, get it over with now. If not, there is no reason for you to stay, so I’m asking you to leave.”

“I’m—“

“Shiva’s tits, will you listen to the man and fuck off already?” Cid snapped. He’d been leaning against the back counter glaring at him for a while now, but he hadn’t interrupted until this point. 

Sephiroth sighed and stood. He left without another word being exchanged, though he could see Cid flipping him off from the corner of his eye as he left. 

So Sephiroth found a different coffee shop to lurk in and kill time. He found it far less fulfilling, and the coffee to be worse; it had been thoroughly burnt. 

6pm came and went. He waited until 7:30 to begin making his way to Seventh Heaven, hoping that Cloud wouldn’t be hiding by the time he got there. He didn’t think Cloud was necessarily one to hide, as he’d never hidden from him before, but he  _ was _ avoiding him today. 

When he walked in the bar, he looked around, waiting for his eyes to catch on blond, spiky hair. He didn’t expect to find him behind the bar, laughing with a patron as he mixed drinks. Sephiroth hadn’t known he knew the staff here well enough to help out behind the bar. It raised his suspicions about Cloud’s involvement higher, but he firmly stepped on those. That wasn’t why he was here tonight. 

As he approached the bar, Cloud must have caught sight of the movement, because he glanced up. The smile fell from his face as they made eye contact. He didn’t scowl or frown, just let his expression go dead. He deftly poured the drink he was mixing. 

Before Sephiroth could get any further, he felt a hand on his chest, blocking his path. 

He looked down to see Tifa glaring back up at him. 

“Get out of my bar.”

“I need to speak to Cloud.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I can set this straight if I just speak to him.”

“See, here’s the thing: he’s not gonna trust one word that comes out of your mouth. Save your breath and get out of here.”

“I have to try.”

“You don’t, and I won’t let you. Get out of my bar.”

“I need to—“

“How many ways do I have to say it?” Tifa said, beginning to push on his chest with force. He let her shove him, stepping back, watching Cloud over her shoulder as he watched them, dead-eyed. “Fuck  _ off _ , Sephiroth.”

He grabbed her wrist, and gritting his teeth, swallowed his pride to say, “ _ Please.” _

She shoved him harder; he backed up further. 

“Fuck off, and fuck  _ you _ , you entitled son of a bitch. He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s been accommodating of you since the start when he didn’t have to be, and you’ve never been grateful. Get lost and don’t come back.”

Sephiroth found himself pushed the last few steps out the door; Cloud turned away and smiled at a customer again, picking up a glass to prepare something else. 

Then the door was shut in his face, and he was left outside, wondering how this had all happened. 


	7. Chapter 7

Cloud could not be convinced to take another day off. Never mind the fact that it hadn’t been a real day off because he insisted at working at Seventh Heaven (because he had forgotten how to be idle, somewhere along the line); he was going into Cloud Nine and he would not hear a word to the contrary. Tifa didn’t like it, but she knew this was past how far she could push him. She could tie him to a chair if she really wanted, but he would hold that against her, and it wasn’t worth that. Vincent resolved that he would be in the front room today to keep an eye on things, because none of them truly expected Sephiroth not to show up, given that he’d tried to track Cloud down yesterday.

And they were right. At 5am, eerily close to the time that Cloud flipped the sign on their door to read “Open” instead of “Closed,” Sephiroth walked in, his stride purposeful as he approached the register.

Cloud kept his face carefully blank, much the way he had the first time Sephiroth had wandered into their shop. He knew he gave nothing away, but that in itself was telling, considering the smiles Sephiroth was now accustomed to receiving.

“How can I help you?” Cloud asked politely when Sephiroth reached the counter.

“Cloud, I—”

“Do you have an order, sir?”

Never once had Cloud called him “sir.” It was something he used frequently to refer to customers, but never had he aimed it at Sephiroth. He was placing deliberate distance between them, and Sephiroth found himself growing more and more desperate to close the widening gap.

“Cloud, I need to—”

“No order? Then I’ll have to ask you to step to the side.”

“_Cloud—_”

“To the side, please. _Sir_.”

Sephiroth shut his mouth. Maybe if he played by Cloud’s rules, he’d be willing to hear him out. He stepped to the side. But there was no customer behind him to take his place at the register, so Cloud turned away, going to finish the last few tasks left to complete opening the store. As he stepped away, Sephiroth shot a hand over the counter to grab his wrist. Cloud froze in place, not even looking over his shoulder.

“Get off me.”

“Cloud, you have to listen to me.”

“I don’t. Listening to you was what got me in this mess in the first place. Let me go.”

“Cloud, _please_.”

At this, Cloud turned to look over his shoulder. Sephiroth was not one to plead. He’d heard the word out of his mouth to soften phrases and make them polite, but never like this. The small, desperate light in his eyes made something catch in his chest, made his dying hopes flicker back to life. Something in the back of his head whispered that there was a chance, that maybe it hadn’t all been a ploy.

He stepped on that spark firmly.

Getting his hopes up was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. He wouldn’t allow it twice. He knew how to learn from his mistakes.

Still, he found himself saying, “Come back after closing. I’ll hear what you have to say. But if I listen, and I decide I don’t believe you, you stop coming around here. No going back on your word; you don’t convince me, I don’t see you here again, for any reason.”

“_Cloud_, that’s hardly—”

“Those are my terms, Sephiroth. If you want me to hear you out, I want you to put your investigation on the line. Prove to me that this is worth the risk to you. Maybe then I might believe you.”

The fact of the matter was, this was a perfect situation. No matter what came out of Sephiroth’s mouth, no matter how sincere he might be, this was the ideal opportunity to end things. His job was to shake Sephiroth, to get him to leave Cloud Nine alone and abandon his investigation. He ought to take advantage of the moment no matter what was said. He told himself firmly that he would. Nothing Sephiroth could say was going to convince him not to take this chance to shut down the investigation; he had a job to do.

(He didn’t fully believe that, even when he was only telling it to himself.)

The look that Sephiroth was giving him said he knew it too. That, if Cloud was the criminal he had always known him to be, this was the perfect out. He had a choice to make here: Cloud, and all his possible lies and theoretical criminal ways, or his investigation, that he was honor-bound to complete as a mission he had accepted. He knew what his past would have him do, what his training would tell him to do: there was only one real option.

But then he remembered Zack, delirious after a mako shot one month, looking at him sadly and saying, “Gaia, I wish you weren’t so _alone_, but I don’t know how to reach you.”

Sephiroth didn’t fully believe Cloud could reach him where Zack could not. But the tightening around his heart, the way his ribcage felt too small made him think there was a chance.

It was stupid, and wrong, irresponsible and unwise and naïve, but he found himself saying, “Fine. If those are your terms.”

Cloud’s blank expression faltered in his surprise. He hadn’t expected Sephiroth to agree. He had to know just how bad an idea this was; he’d never really believed Cloud’s lies. He had to know that, if he was right all along like he’d always known himself to be, then he was walking into a trap. But apparently it was worth the risk.

Cloud’s expression went dead again, but his eyes went soft.

“Go on then, get out of here. I don’t want you darkening my doorstep until closing.”

Cloud’s expression might have been foreboding, but Sephiroth knew him well enough to read his eyes better. And the gentleness there gave him hope.

He nodded once, turned, and left.

They all waited until he was around the corner and out of sight before moving again. Cloud went to continue taking the cups from the drying rack and putting them into cabinets; Yuffie and Cid just stared at him. Vincent tapped his fingers against his folded arms from where he watched against a far wall.

“Cloud, you have a chance here. You aren’t seriously considering wasting it,” Vincent said slowly. He had seen that look in Cloud’s eyes as clearly as Sephiroth had.

“Of course not,” Cloud said, though he didn’t fully believe it himself. “I know what I have to do. No matter what he says, I’ll tell him I don’t believe him. He’s a man of his word; he’ll drop it. We’ll be set after this.”

“But you _will_ actually do that, yes? Because it looks to me like you’re considering the other option.”

Cloud’s hands paused, turning the cup in his hand over.

“I mean, it’d be nice, wouldn’t it? I can daydream. I won’t follow through, but that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine.”

“As long as it stays in your imagination. I know you’re tempted, and if he were any other man I would encourage you, but he isn’t an option.”

Cloud finally started moving again. He put the cup in the cabinet.

“No, I know. Of course I know. He never has been.”

Yuffie and Cid looked between one another. Cid’s brow furrowed, and Yuffie shrugged.

“As long as you remember that when the time comes.”

“‘Course I will. I got all my moping over the situation done yesterday. You can trust me, Vincent. I’ve put AVALANCHE first since you took me in; that isn’t about to change.”

Vincent seemed to accept that, because he pushed away from the wall to help restock beans for the incoming rush.

They got as far as halfway through the morning’s rush before Cloud’s PHS went off. He ignored it the first time, but then it rang a second. Only a handful of people had the number, and it didn’t bode well that they cared enough to call twice when they knew he was busy. He hoped it was a wrong number or a spam call, but when he checked, it was Tifa. He tapped Yuffie on the shoulder and nodded toward the register, stepping away to take the call.

“Tifa, what’s up?”

“We’ve got a situation. We’ve got an incoming drop, a big one, but one of the littler gangs is trying to swipe it from us. You remember Corneo?”

“Shit, yeah, I remember that prick.”

“It’s him and his goons, and you know how he’s been growing lately. We need backup. You and Vincent are the best shots we have, and we could _really_ use you, because I think this is going to turn into a shootout.”

“Fuck,” Cloud said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, where are you? We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Tifa relayed their location, and Cloud hung up quickly.

“Sorry, folks, we’re closing early today,” Cloud called, despite the fact that this was one of their busiest periods of the day. There was no hope for it. There was a round of groans, and silently, Cloud echoed the sentiment. “I know, I know, but come back tomorrow, free drink for everyone here. There’s an emergency we have to go deal with, so if you wouldn’t mind, come back tomorrow and we’ll take care of you then.”

The grumbling died down a little, assuaged with the promise of free goods and a reasonable explanation. No one was happy, and it took longer than Cloud would have liked for them to clear out, but they slowly filed out the door. As they shuffled along, he went to Vincent.

“We’ve got trouble with Corneo. Tifa needs us.”

Vincent nodded and said, “You can give me details on the way.”

“Cid,” Cloud called, turning to the man, “You’re in charge. Get the place closed up once everyone’s gone. You two are off for the rest of the day once things are shut down.”

“Go take care of business,” Cid said, already moving to start cleaning.

Vincent turned and led the way to the back door; Cloud fell in line quickly behind him. Vincent fished out Cloud’s gun, which he kept hidden on his person in case Sephiroth checked Cloud, and handed it over to the blond, who shoved it into his waistband before tugging his shirt down over it. They jogged toward where Tifa had described, Cloud leading the way, giving Vincent the necessary details as they went.

When they found AVALANCHE, they were hiding behind crates at the drop point. They were crammed a little tight, not leaving much room for Vincent and Cloud to fall in beside Tifa, Barret, Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. The others _did_ look distinctly relieved when they arrived, though.

Tifa caught them up, going over the tip off they had received from another one of their fronts in Wall Market, how they weren’t sure when Corneo would arrive, or if the drop would be late because of it. They ended up spending much of the time watching the drop point in silence, waiting for something to happen. The delivery had barely arrived before Corneo’s men jumped from an adjacent point and snatched it, running off with their stolen mako.

It ended up becoming a wild chase that spanned most of the slums and took the whole day. They were collectively exhausted by the end of it, panting and drenched in sweat. They ended up getting back their mako only when Corneo had no men left to defend it. But there was no telling when reinforcements would arrive.

That wouldn’t normally be an issue. They would all take the mako to a safe location, with all of them to guard it.

The issue was that Cloud was in bad shape.

He had taken more hits than he was accustomed to. It wasn’t his first time being shot, but the most hits he’d ever taken at one time before this had been two. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d been shot, but his torso felt like it was on fire, and his shirt was soaked through. He had half a mind to insist on going anyway, injuries be damned, but Vincent had realized how injured he was somehow, despite the fact that the blood didn’t show through his black shirt.

(He could smell the blood, but Cloud didn’t need to know that.)

He had insisted that Cloud take care of it. When Cloud tried to argue, he was told Vincent would shoot him in the leg to incapacitate him and drag him off himself to take care of the wounds if he wouldn’t, and then AVALANCHE would be down two men instead of one. Cloud reluctantly agreed to just go handle it himself.

It wasn’t a strange sight, in the slums, to see someone stumbling and limping and breathing hard. It could be from anything: a beating, a mugging, drunkenness, drugs. It didn’t matter. People here minded their own business, because it was the only way to get by. No one bothered him as he made his way slowly toward Cloud Nine, thinking about the emergency med kit they had stashed under the counter. He wasn’t sure if they were taking the mako to Seventh Heaven, and didn’t want to be in their way, making the coffee shop the only viable location.

He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten; there was no sun below plate to warn him that it was very late, at this point. He had no way of knowing that he should expect Sephiroth, standing outside the door and waiting for him.

Cloud panicked immediately, his heart jumping into his ears.

He was a good actor, but he couldn’t play this off. No matter what he tried, he wasn’t going to be moving right, and Sephiroth would know something was up. Even if he didn’t guess immediately at the issue, Cloud didn’t have time to waste; he had to get his wounds treated immediately. His head was starting to swim and his vision was going black at the edges, and his only hope for not bleeding out was getting the wounds stitched up before he passed out from blood loss. He didn’t even think he’d have time to dig out the bullets still inside him. It would have to be a problem for later, when things weren’t quite as dire. He was risking infection that way, but there wasn’t anything left to do about it.

Sephiroth was an obvious wrench in that plan. If Sephiroth saw him, riddled with bullet holes, with scars from previous ones scattered across his chest, the last scraps of his cover would be blown. There would be nothing he could say to convince the man he wasn’t a criminal of some sort. But he was out of time; if he didn’t get treatment immediately, he wasn’t going to make it. It was go to Sephiroth and risk arrest or die to escape.

And to think, he was so close to escaping the danger of being caught entirely.

It was that thought that had a hysterical bubble of laughter slipping from Cloud’s lips. The strange chuckle cost him his balance, and he tipped over into the building next to him, catching himself with a shoulder against the brick. The laugh turned into a cough turned into a gurgle and now there was blood dripping down his chin and, oh, that wasn’t very good, was it?

He must have been just close enough for Sephiroth to catch the sound of his amusement, because his head shot up. He had been concerned because Cloud Nine was closed earlier than it should be, and they never closed early. The building was abandoned, and now they were well past closing, and there still wasn’t anyone to be found. Except Cloud, now, slumped against a building, one arm hugging his waist, blood smearing that arm, blood trickling from his lips, blood on the air, his eyes hazy. What had happened?

Sephiroth didn’t think about implications, about the how’s or the why’s. He saw someone he cared about, possibly mortally wounded, and jumped into action to fix it.

He raced over and picked Cloud up, despite knowing that Cloud would never normally stand for the indignity. But he didn’t protest, just laughed a little, as Sephiroth fought to keep his touch as gentle as possible. He rushed over to the door and kicked it at the handle, shattering the lock easily.

“You’re paying to replace that,” Cloud remarked.

“Now’s not the time, Cloud.”

He set him carefully on the counter and paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“Med kit, under the counter by the register,” Cloud told him, beginning the careful fight to try and pull his ruined shirt up and over his head.

Sephiroth got the kit and returned before he got the shirt off, but when he tossed it to the floor, Sephiroth froze in place. The bullet holes were clear, as were the scars from previous wounds of a similar make. The reality of the situation crashed down on him. This was the proof he had been after this whole time. He had irrefutable evidence that Cloud was a criminal, now. He shouldn’t be helping. He should let Cloud die for his crimes, then take in the rest of Cloud Nine, and get his information from them. If this was anyone else, if it wasn’t _Cloud_, he wouldn’t have hesitated the way he was; he would have stepped away, the med kit still in hand, to bar the door and watch him bleed out.

Cloud’s face smoothed out to cool blankness as he watched Sephiroth realized what he had already known himself. The truth was bare between them, and there was no going back from this now.

Cloud held out one shaking hand.

“Give me the med kit.”

Sephiroth didn’t look at his hand, or at his eyes; he was too busy staring at Cloud’s chest.

So he tried again, saying, “You can’t arrest me if I’m dead. _Give me the kit_.”

“Have you done this before? Stitched yourself up?” Sephiroth said, trying to bid for time while his mind whirled.

“No, someone else has always done it for me, but I know the gist; I can figure it out. Now give me the godsdamn _kit_.” 

“Some of those aren’t deep enough to have an exit wound. The bullets are still inside. You will have to find them before you can stitch them.”

“I’ll run the infection risk; they have to get shut before I bleed out, which I’m going to do, if you don’t _give me the fucking kit, Sephiroth_.”

Sephiroth finally looked up, making eye contact with Cloud. And for the first time ever, the cool, unflappable, unshakeable blond looked terrified and desperate.

“Did you not hear me?” Cloud insisted. “I am going to die if you don’t give me the kit. I’m not asking you to help. I’m asking for what is at best the 50/50 shot of living I have left.”

Cloud’s voice didn’t shake, didn’t tremble or betray his emotions, but his eyes were lit with such primal fear that Sephiroth found himself moving, his mind made up.

When he got close enough, he knocked Cloud’s hand out of the way. He came to stand between his legs, setting the kit on the counter by Cloud’s hip. He rifled through it to see what supplies were there; sterile gloves, alcohol, a suture kit, a roll of gauze, medical tape, and a potion. There were a scattering of band-aids at the bottom, some single-use packages of aspirin, but those would be no help here. He didn’t find the tweezers he would need; he’d have to pull the bullets out with his fingers. It would have to be good enough.

“What are you doing?” Cloud said, leaning back on his hands now, needing the support.

“Helping.”

“_Why?_”

“I’m not sure. Ask me when I’m done, if you’re still awake. I need to focus.”

He hadn’t done this many times. SOLDIERs, unless they sustained truly heavy damage, healed so quickly that their bodies pushed bullets out and healed on their own. In the rare cases where a SOLDIER was wounded too heavily and needed this kind of care, they were usually treated by medical professionals. But there had been enough times in Wutai where there had been no professionals, and SOLDIERs or troopers needed care, and they had all looked to him. It didn’t matter that he’d had no experience; he was their General, and they had a problem that needed to be fixed. So he had taught himself what he needed to know. He just hoped the skills weren’t too rusty. He hoped his enhanced speed would be enough to save this situation.

Doing the best he could with the situation, Sephiroth pulled his leather gloves off and poured some of the alcohol over his hands, rubbing it in and shaking them out to encourage air-drying, though they were still damp when he pulled on the gloves. He was about to set to work when he paused, glancing up at Cloud, who was watching him, his eyes growing ever foggier.

“This will hurt,” Sephiroth warned.

“Better pain than death.”

Sephiroth thought that was a remarkably SOLDIER sentiment from a civilian, but he gathered that Cloud did not fully lead a civilian’s life. Without further warning or preamble, he dug his fingers into the first wound, searching for the bullet. He could hear, distantly, the way Cloud tried to fight down his scream and failed as he continued to root around in his flesh. He tuned it out; it would do them no favors if he lost focus.

It was steady work, removing the bullets and stitching the wounds closed. Sephiroth was certain Cloud would have passed out, from the pain if not the blood loss, but once the bullets were free, Cloud had downed the potion. It bought them enough time for Sephiroth to tie off the final knot, but by the time he did, Cloud was trembling all over from the effort of remaining sitting upright, swaying dangerously from time to time.

“There,” Sephiroth said, snipping the final string and setting the supplies aside.

“Thank gods,” Cloud said, slumping forward as his strength gave out, his forehead against Sephiroth’s shoulder. He didn’t have enough energy left to do anything else.

“I still have to bandage you,” Sephiroth reminded him gently.

Cloud grunted and shook his head, a protest on his lips, until he felt coolness wash over him. He blinked a few times, as the sensation repeated itself again, and again, green lights wrapping around him as it happened. He found he suddenly had the energy to sit up. He glanced down in time to see Sephiroth’s bracer still glowing from the apparent Cure he had cast.

Cloud looked up at him, confused. The danger had passed. He was going to survive, he was certain, now that the wounds were closed. The Cures were appreciated, but certainly not necessary.

Sephiroth didn’t meet his eyes, just reached for the bandages and tape.

“Sit still,” he reminded Cloud, who listened, quietly baffled by the turn of events.

Cloud watched him carefully as he bandaged him as best he could, given the much-smaller-than-needed roll of gauze they had available. Nothing was given away on Sephiroth’s face, no hint at what he was feeling, nothing but the fact that he was concentrating on his task. If Cloud was still as perilously close to passing out as he had been, he wouldn’t have questioned it; he hadn’t had the energy to spare. But now, he was awake and alert, and he was wondering what the hell Sephiroth was playing at.

Eventually, Sephiroth ran out of wounds to bandage and ways to stall. He carefully set the tape to the side, as he had run out of the gauze entirely. He stared at it so he wouldn’t have to look up at Cloud.

“Why did you help me?”

“You were bleeding out; you said as much.”

“I was, but you aren’t a generous man, and you aren’t a stupid one. You know what all this means. It would have made more sense for you to let me die.”

“Perhaps.”

“Sephiroth, I’ve been lying to you since I met you; you know that now. We both know I’m up to nothing legal; the evidence is all over your hands. Was the plan to put me in your debt so I would talk? Because I won’t.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Whatever the plan was, I’m not going to give you anything. I owe good men and women my life; I’m not going to sell them out because you felt a flash of pity for me at just the right time.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then what is it? Because this wasn’t charity, and you haven’t been upfront with me since you first walked admitted you were investigating me. If this is another trick to try and get my guard down, to get me to trust you and give up anything more than my injuries already told you, it won’t work. If you thought it would, you clearly don’t know me.”

“That isn’t what I thought, and it isn’t a trick.”

“Then _what is it_ and why won’t you _look at me_?”

Cloud grabbed Sephiroth by the chin and dragged his face up, forcing eye contact. He couldn’t tell what the hell was in those green eyes, just that they burned with _something_, and it was an outright inferno.

Sephiroth grabbed him by that wrist and said, “I helped because I couldn’t watch you die. I should have done everything I could have to kill you, and then wrung the information I need from your associates. There’s no practical reason for me to need you alive. There can’t be anything you know that I can’t get through the others. But I realized what I should do, that I should stand by and do nothing, and I found it unacceptable. It was never going to be an option.”

“But _why_? I’m everything you always said I was.”

“Because I _care about you_. And I shouldn’t. You should be the dirt beneath my boot, but you _aren’t_. When I realized the other day that I hurt you, and I realized how unacceptable that was to me, how desperate I was to make it right, I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. You are the enemy and I am supposed to hate you but, if anything, I feel the opposite.”

Cloud stared at him in shock, his hand slipping from Sephiroth’s chin, though the SOLDIER held his wrist firm in his grasp. His eyes skittered over Sephiroth’s face, trying to confirm what was coming out of his mouth, and found only earnest sincerity on his face.

“But getting close to me was a tactic. It was strategy—you never meant it.”

“No, I never _intended_ to mean it. That isn’t what happened. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for you, but apparently I do. And if I accept that as the truth, then there was no way I could stand aside and watch you die, Shinra be damned.”

Cloud let an incredulous little laugh slip.

“You don’t mean that. In the morning, you’ll change your mind. Everyone knows that you’re Shinra’s lapdog. You aren’t about to change for me.”

Sephiroth’s grip tightened just a hair as he said, “I’ll prove it to you. When I don’t report you, and SOLDIERs don’t come kicking in your door, maybe you’ll believe me. When enough time passes, and I don’t investigate anything further, and I let you keep whatever secrets you like without pressing, maybe you’ll believe me.”

Cloud looked at him carefully. It seemed that, whatever would happen down the line, he believed what was coming out of his mouth to be true. But Cloud wasn’t the kind to get burned and trust again that easily; it would take time for him to even consider believing what he was saying. But just because he didn’t fully believe it, didn’t mean that hope wasn’t swelling inside his chest. His heart was racing, and his breath was catching, and he couldn’t stop glancing down at Sephiroth’s mouth. There was a chance, here. A chance for _them_, and Cloud had always told himself that was out of line, outright impossible. But maybe, maybe if he took the chance, reached out for Sephiroth now that he was reaching back, he could, just this once, get what he wanted. He leaned forward, eyes on Sephiroth’s lips, wanting nothing more than to feel them against his own. He leaned closer, and Sephiroth leaned in to try and meet him half way.

And Cloud hopped off the counter.

“C’mon. You oughta get out of here before the others get back; I don’t know that they wouldn’t attack on sight, when they realize that you know, and then you’ll attack back, and it’ll be a mess. Come back tomorrow once I get a chance to talk to them. If you’re being honest, then there’s no rush.”

Maybe one day he’d get what he wanted, but he’d taken enough risks for tonight.

Sephiroth looked immensely disappointed, and then incredibly frustrated. He didn’t know where he had let his head get to, to expect that Cloud might kiss him. The blond had almost _died_ not half an hour ago. His enemy now knew his most damning secret. Of course he had other things on his mind. It must be lingering ideas of romance that Genesis had planted in his head all those years ago, still lurking enough to bite him when he didn’t expect it. If only he’d taken those with him when he deserted.

Sephiroth nodded and stepped away, moving to help clean up the mess of medical supplies, until Cloud set a hand over his. He looked up as Sephiroth looked down, and the smile he gave was small but sincere.

“Go ahead; go. I’ll take care of this. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight—more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome.”

Cloud’s smile flickered wider for a second before nodding toward the door.

“I don’t know when they’ll show up here. You ought to go.”

“Right,” Sephiroth mumbled, making his way toward the door. He hesitated when he got his hand on the door, turning to look at Cloud. When he heard the footsteps stop, Cloud looked up, a little surprised to see Sephiroth looking back at him, so unsure. He laughed, and though the sound was tired, it was honest. He made a shooing motion with his hands, and Sephiroth smiled just a hair before leaving.

When he was on the other side of the door, they both sighed.

What a night.


	8. Chapter 8

It had apparently taken AVALANCHE a while to find him. Cloud was aware he could have sped things up if he had called or texted one of them to let them know where he was, but there were really only so many places he could _be_, he didn’t honestly think they needed the help.

Still, Cloud had managed to get all the medical supplies cleaned up by the time they found him; he was just busy tutting at the blood on his counter as he tried to scrub it out.

“Cloud!” Tifa called, barreling into the shop. He looked up at her and smiled, setting down the towel. She grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him to face her so she could look at his still-exposed chest; he hadn’t had a clean shirt to put on. “How are you, are you okay? You looked bad when you left, I was so worried, and… you don’t look that bad?”

“We didn’t have that many potions in the med kit,” Vincent said, coming around to Tifa’s side to look at the damage.

Cloud sighed and shifted on his feet.

“We didn’t. Sephiroth was here when I got here.”

The blood drained from Tifa’s face, but Vincent just hummed in acknowledgement; he remembered, now, Cloud agreeing to meet him at closing. It should have been something he remembered sooner.

“How are you still alive?” Tifa said, looking him up and down. “He has to know, now. Is he up to something? Going to raid the place with all his little SOLDIERs in tow?”

Cloud shrugged.

“That’s not what he claims, but who knows? He _did_ help. I look this good because he cast a bunch of Cures on me after stitching me up.”

“He _stitched you up_?”

Cloud ruffled his hair.

“_Why_?” Vincent asked, making Cloud look up at him. “You must have asked why. He had no reason to help, and we all know it.”

Cloud looked down at his toes and sighed heavily.

“He said he… cares about me? Which doesn’t make any sense, for _so_ many reasons.”

Vincent hummed in understanding, “Sentiment. That does explain why he was so determined to track you down after hurting you.”

“He didn’t _hurt_ me, he just—”

“_Cloud_,” Vincent said.

In the same breath, Tifa added, “Cloud, _please_.”

He scowled at them both.

“Okay, maybe I wasn’t happy about it. But that’s still ridiculous. Even if he cared about me before, he shouldn’t, now that it conflicts with work. I’m sure he’s going to change his mind, once he gets a chance to sit and think about it. It must have been the adrenaline talking before.”

Tifa shrugged and said, “Maybe. If that’s the case, we need a plan for what we’re going to do when he kicks in our door.”

Cloud was more correct than he knew. A plate above them and many stories even higher, Sephiroth was sitting in his apartment, trying to figure out where he stood.

“I dunno, Seph, seems pretty straightforward to me,” Zack said, tapping his foot in the air from where it was resting, crossed over his other that was propped up on Sephiroth’s coffee table. Sephiroth glared pointedly at his tapping boot; Zack ignored it.

He had called his lieutenant because he tended to think better when he could explain things aloud. It tended to help even further to gain a third-party perspective. He understood that Zack was not the most _neutral_ third-party, as he was the one who gave him a list of first date locations when he asked for spots for informal meetings. Zack had been trying to set them up in every roundabout way he knew of ever since. But he _was_ also the only person Sephiroth trusted not to tell Shinra about Cloud’s true profession the second his back was turned, if he decided he really did want to ignore it. That made him the only option.

“How so?” Sephiroth said from his armchair, unconsciously tapping his finger on the arm of it in time with the tapping of Zack’s foot.

“I mean, you like him, right? Like, _like_ like him?”

Sephiroth sighed impatiently and said, “Please speak in a way that is sensible to the average adult.”

Zack laughed and said, “You have romantic interest in him?”

Sephiroth coughed delicately and looked away.

“I—”

“Yeah, you totally do, your face says it loud and clear. So, if you like him, who gives a shit what Shinra’s agenda is?”

Sephiroth’s eyes cut back to Zack like lightning.

“_What?_”

“I said, who gives a shit?” Zack pulled himself to sit upright, his feet finally on the floor. “Listen, you never cared about this investigation, not even in the beginning. You only took it because you were bored and we both know it. Now I’m not saying what he’s up to is _good_, I don’t like the idea of him getting a bunch of people hooked on mako; we both know how nasty that shit can be. But we’re paid to _kill_ people, Seph. Can we really say we’re any better?”

Sephiroth scowled; he hadn’t thought of it that way. He had been raised to be a weapon. It wasn’t like he had a lot of options in his profession—this was, very literally, all he knew.

“But I have orders.”

“Fuck ‘em. When’s the last time you did something to make _you_ happy?”

When he turned down the mission to hunt Genesis and Angeal. And even that hadn’t been to make him happy, so much as to make him a little less miserable, and he was _still_ wallowing in guilt over that, because he’d made Zack pay the price he was unwilling to.

Something of the thought must have been on his face, because Zack’s expression fell as he said, “That doesn’t count. You _know_ that doesn’t count.”

He looked away again. He didn’t respond.

Zack sighed and tousled his hair.

“Okay, but listen, that’s my point, right? You _don’t_ do anything to make yourself _happy_. You might try to make things hurt _less_ sometimes, but that isn’t the same thing. This will make you happy, and who’s it hurting, really? From what you told me about the guy, he wasn’t going to talk if you brought him in anyway. So that makes his coffee shop another dead end.”

“I might be able to get something out of the others who work there.”

“_Might_ be. Didn’t you say the other two hate you and the third is stoic as all hell?”

“… Yes.”

“The first two will just curse you out, and the last one probably won’t give you anything either. Do something for yourself, Sephiroth.”

“I owe the completion of this mission to Shinra.”

“Shinra owes half of what they currently have to _you_. Let them pay off their debt a little.”

Sephiroth thought this was a deliberate misunderstanding of his relationship to Shinra. As much as it chafed, they owned him. He recalled overhearing Hojo say once that he had a deed of sale, not a birth certificate. He was obligated to give Shinra everything he possibly could, and they were obligated to, at most, provide for his physical needs. That was how this worked. He had explained this to Zack many times, but it only ever served to infuriate the man to such a level he feared the lieutenant might burst a blood vessel. That was the reason he didn’t remind him of this truth now.

That, and the warning look in Zack’s eyes, that dared him to even consider bringing it up.

Sephiroth settled for saying, “I don’t know, Zack.”

Zack huffed and said, “What’s not to know? You feel so bad about dropping the mission, pass it to the Turks.”

“The Turks had it originally; it was given to me because they needed a SOLDIER.”

“No, it was given to you because you’re Shinra’s resident genius. There’s not another SOLDIER that could do it, or I’d tell you to pass it to them. Give it back to the Turks.”

“But I already accepted the mission.”

“Sephiroth, in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve only ever seen you turn down a single mission. You don’t have to wait for extreme circumstances to do what most SOLDIERs do routinely.”

_This_ time, Sephiroth couldn’t deny his point. He was aware that most SOLDIERs routinely turned down missions. Then again, most SOLDIERs weren’t owned the way he was. He scowled.

“Perhaps,” he allowed, and Zack crowed in delight; they both knew that was as good as a yes.

Zack popped to his feet and clapped a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Good man. Tell the company in the morning or I’ll steal your PHS and do it for you.”

Sephiroth sighed. Zack was annoyingly good at doing that. He still wasn’t sure how he _managed_ it, because he was nearly impossible to sneak up on. He suspected that he was so used to Zack manhandling him that he didn’t always feel when he slipped a hand into his pocket, amongst all the other touches.

Zack left with nothing more than a cheery goodbye, hollered from his doorway.

Sephiroth spent most of the rest of the night reflecting on his decision, and trying to decide if it was the correct one.

Yet when he watched dawn creep in through his windows, he found himself sending a “Mission Complete” notification through his PHS, with the added comment, “There is nothing more I will be able to do.” He expected someone would call him and demand further explanation. He expected them to try and wheedle him into doing more and that they wouldn’t fully believe him when he said he hit a dead end. But he also didn’t expect them to follow up on the why, just to scramble to try and find a viable replacement, now that he was unwilling to continue.

He also, however, knew that was early enough to pay a visit to Cloud Nine. If the sun was up, then they were already open.

Sephiroth made his way below plate slowly, dragging his feet more than he usually did. He wasn’t particularly excited to find out what exactly waited for him at Cloud Nine. Either Cloud would take him at his word, which is something he had adamantly refused to do with Cloud up to this point, or he would be on guard and possibly ready to shoot on sight. He had no way of knowing until he walked into the coffee shop.

Except, when he walked into the shop, he was greeted with the sight of Cloud behind the register, ringing up a woman with a pleasant smile. Right up until his eyes cut to Sephiroth, and the smile dropped.

Sephiroth found he couldn’t stop the thunderous expression on his face as he approached the counter while the woman moved to the side, her order already taken.

“What are you doing working?” Sephiroth demanded, heedless of their audience with the woman standing nearby. Cloud’s eyes cut to her pointedly, but Sephiroth couldn’t care less.

“Just covering my usual shift,” he explained, going for calm and collected. He even hit it fairly well, but Sephiroth understood now that it was just a front.

“Stop. Have someone else cover for you. You are in no state to be working.”

“I never thought I’d say it,” Yuffie grumbled, “but _thank you_, Sephiroth.”

He nodded at the Wutaian, understanding that they had little in common, but at least this they should share.

Cloud sighed impatiently, saying, “Is this what you’re going to be like, now? An annoying guardhound, nipping at my heels every time I try to work when you think I shouldn’t?”

“_Yes,_” Sephiroth said, refusing to feel ashamed about the metaphor. “Someone has to be. Clock out this instant.”

“I do the time cards, Sephiroth. I don’t have to clock out.”

“Then stop working. We ought to talk, anyway.”

That, apparently, was true enough that Cloud sighed. He stepped out from behind the counter, hanging his apron on a peg on the wall as he went.

“Cover for me, Yuffie.”

“You got it, Boss Man.” 

“I keep telling you, don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Boss Man.”

Cloud groaned, and was clearly moving very gingerly as he made his way through the shop. He went to the back and opened the door, nodding for Sephiroth to go through it. When he went into the back, Cloud trailed after him, before leading him out to the alley in the back. He went and sat on top of an empty garbage bin, Sephiroth standing beside him.

“So. What now?” Cloud asked.

“Now, we move on. I have no intention of pursuing the investigation against you, Cloud.” He pulled out his PHS and pulled up the mission report, where his confirmation of his completion was attached, with his explanation that there was nothing more to he could do. He held the device out for Cloud to read, watching him nod slowly.

“You’re really not gonna turn me in. Why did you work so hard for all this time, if you were gonna just give up?”

“I was bored, really. I don’t much care about the drug situation, or how much it spills over to the Upper Plate. I just wanted a challenge, which you gave me.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that was all it took to talk you into stuff,” Cloud said, before knocking his shoulders into Sephiroth’s with a grin. “Bet making a proper cappuccino is a challenge for you. Want to try it?”

Sephiroth looked up at him skeptically.

“Are you offering me a job?”

“Maybe? I believe you, but I think it’ll take a while for everyone else to come around, and while you’re here, we can keep an eye on you. And I’ve heard all sort of things about your… deft hands.” Cloud looked pointedly down at them.

Sephiroth tucked his hands into his pockets, flushing slightly; he knew what the tabloids said about his skills with his hands, inspired by his swordplay.

“Perhaps don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

“Maybe I want to find out for myself.”

Sephiroth peeked up at Cloud, who was giving him a wide, mischievous grin.

“Then…?”

“Yeah. I was hurt when you said you weren’t interested because I _am_. But if you weren’t lying the other day, and you are as well, then…” Cloud shrugged as he trailed off.

Sephiroth came to stand between his legs, his hands resting on Cloud’s thighs.

“Then I haven’t spoiled everything?”

Cloud laughed and reached up to cup his face, leaning down until their lips were brushing as he spoke.

“No. But maybe we should kiss somewhere that isn’t on top of my garbage can.”

“Mm, I don’t know that I can wait.”

Cloud laughed, but it was quickly turned into another sound with a much higher pitch as Sephiroth grabbed him by the back of his neck and tugged him the last half inch closer to kiss him passionately.

There might be some hiccups left to be had, but as they both groaned into the kiss, they realized they were going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it, folks! Sorry for the delay, this ending has been plaguing me, it's been very very difficult to work with. I'm not completely happy with it, but I thought it was better to update with the best I have than to keep this sitting as unfinished for the next 1000 years


End file.
